Feeling Your Dance
          by Sarah Elizabeth Hume


   My words exude in dry, sandy, grains
   that slip through light,
   unnoticed,
   unwanted,
   not like the dance of you.

  It flows in scorching waters.
  Beguiling,
  seductive,
  it lingers like flecks of sweeping dust
  in beams of airy gold.
  Your body is flourished in light hearted flame
  as we fall in fields of lush emerald.
  
  If only my words could move
  like the earth beneath us
  their meaning would become crystal.
  If only my world could fit
  as easily as we slide into one another.

  Such is the dance of you.