landscape,  lifestyles,  Plants,  snow,  sunrises

The Dance

Corn stalks in snow on a cold winter morning

The Dance by Linda Tarman

Things are changing.
Slowly, and without much fanfare,
The movement of the soul
Begins its dance.

At first the notes ascend lightly
And linger in the ear;
Tantalizing in their simplicity
Gracefully calling
“It’s time to open yourself
And leave the safety of your hiding.”

My heart hears, however faintly
And knows it’s true,
My feet, slower to catch on,
Sit planted, keeping time,
Biding time.

Rise up, Oh love,
Have you failed to remember
The hope of being desired,
The beauty of being chosen?

His hand is extended
The choice is now mine.
I feel my stubborn will giving way
To the impassioned desire.

Here, caught in the arms of eternity
I leave my place of redundancy
And, let myself enjoy the dance
As love’s boldness
Sweeps me off my fear.

Retired. Having fun with photography. Journal daily. Meditate daily. Learning haiku. Have a love for fountain pens.