Twisting - the Dancer Spins

Twisting the dancer spins into the mist of the night, to his very own tune This unearthly spectra gracefully dances, only lit by the light of the moon Softly his leather clad shoes play skillfully onto the moisten moss beneath Night animals, stop to stare at this dancing spectre, to them he bequeath Their little clicks of approval, seemed only to add, to the body of the tune This unearthly spectre dances in the mist only lit by the light of the moon He makes his way through the trees, still dancing, as he reaches the leith Across the wooden bridge into the mist, he disappears, beyond the heath Gazing into the mist, you imagine him there, still dancing to his own tune One of nature’s, own loons, who only dance’s, lit by the light of the moon