My prayer will be a dance
Yesterday.
On my way to class I saw a magician feeding his crows. (We have some crows here, but no congresses or murders.) They were his messengers, coming back for a new message and getting a treat for their efforts. The seagulls came as well, from a rival magician, and tried to fight them off and steal the message. But there were more crows than seagulls so they lost. Besides, the magician wasn't deceived, and he wasn't about to feed the messengers of his rival. I passed them by and didn't see the crows fly off with the message, but I'm sure the seagulls got nothing for their trouble.
Then the wind came. It blew in from the south, a warm wind, and made ripples on the water, made the trees dance with their dresses of fiery leaves. When the moon rose it raced the clouds, trying to catch the wind it had let out of the golden doors. The stars watched in amusement, as did I. We liked the wind and cheered it on in its race.
Then I went to dance class, downtown. The beat of the drums infused my blood with power and the rhythm of the earth and the wind and the waves.
When I left I had to run for the bus. The leaves raced with me, laughing. In their world they were pixies, but in our world they were orange and yellow leaves; I saw through their glamour and they startled me. They laughed at that too, and I laughed with them.
I made it to the bus stop just as the bus pulled up, gasping in the autumn wind, the drums still pounding in my head. I ate an apple on the ride home and thought of the power of one piece of fruit.
The wind and the moon walked me back to my door and I thanked them before I went inside.
On my way to class I saw a magician feeding his crows. (We have some crows here, but no congresses or murders.) They were his messengers, coming back for a new message and getting a treat for their efforts. The seagulls came as well, from a rival magician, and tried to fight them off and steal the message. But there were more crows than seagulls so they lost. Besides, the magician wasn't deceived, and he wasn't about to feed the messengers of his rival. I passed them by and didn't see the crows fly off with the message, but I'm sure the seagulls got nothing for their trouble.
Then the wind came. It blew in from the south, a warm wind, and made ripples on the water, made the trees dance with their dresses of fiery leaves. When the moon rose it raced the clouds, trying to catch the wind it had let out of the golden doors. The stars watched in amusement, as did I. We liked the wind and cheered it on in its race.
Then I went to dance class, downtown. The beat of the drums infused my blood with power and the rhythm of the earth and the wind and the waves.
When I left I had to run for the bus. The leaves raced with me, laughing. In their world they were pixies, but in our world they were orange and yellow leaves; I saw through their glamour and they startled me. They laughed at that too, and I laughed with them.
I made it to the bus stop just as the bus pulled up, gasping in the autumn wind, the drums still pounding in my head. I ate an apple on the ride home and thought of the power of one piece of fruit.
The wind and the moon walked me back to my door and I thanked them before I went inside.