One To Tango

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Abstract

lgrass prairie “to see if we are dancing to the same music.” We dally beneath a plum-baked sky feet cushy in folds of waving grass watching cloud shapes morph with the wind.</p><p id="c8f0">Finally, she turns to me and says “We are where we should be.” The sun winks from behind a cloud, the green-and-gold grasses nod assent — the gods agree with her pronouncement. I take her hand, wondering where it is she thinks we are and whether I am even within hailing distance.</p><div id="8ea6" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/show-me-all-the-hidden-stars-d15a0d3f40c9"> <div> <div> <h2>Show Me All the Hidden Stars</h2> <div><h3>A poem about sharing wonder</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div>

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The sun winks from behind a cloud, the grasses nod, the gods agree

Photo by Ken Martin

Her opinion of me matters too much. When she looks at me that way, appraising me, my lungs stop, the world flattens, the sun halts and stares down. How deep inside myself must I go to find an opinion of my own that I can rest on?

Her skin is warm cinnamon and she speaks in a melodies like rainshowers on tin. Sometimes I wonder if her words are even offered for their meaning or intended solely as enchantment

Early this bright summer morn she has brought us out to the tallgrass prairie “to see if we are dancing to the same music.” We dally beneath a plum-baked sky feet cushy in folds of waving grass watching cloud shapes morph with the wind.

Finally, she turns to me and says “We are where we should be.” The sun winks from behind a cloud, the green-and-gold grasses nod assent — the gods agree with her pronouncement. I take her hand, wondering where it is she thinks we are and whether I am even within hailing distance.