The Dancer

It started with the castanets. The fiddler chimed right in. He played the sweetest melody. The fiddle by his chin. Suddenly, her face appeared. Through mist, between the trees. The crowd stood silently because. The dancer came to please. Her long, dark hair was wild and free. With eyes exquisite, green. Her body was beyond compare. So tanned and svelte and lean. She leaped around the roaring fire. Her graceful movements slow. The firelight was in her eyes. The green was all aglow. The yellow flames licked at her feet. She teased them with her dance. And with the shimmer of her veils. The group was in a trance. The people swayed from side to side. Hypnotically, they fell. A hazy look was in their eyes. Caught in the dancer’s spell. They swooned together with the beat. Their motion was as one. And they would only be released. The time the dance was done. Soon the fiddler slowed his beat. The dancer’s steps complied. Each movement taken gingerly. She let the fiddle guide. Then she pranced into the woods. The music led the way. Until the time she would return. To dance another day.