The strums of yawn weave
to a lull,
A pair repeat a verse with a
switch between high and low.
To the beats, I see in
my mind's eye;
A pair of deer bounding across
an evening field.
A field framed by a darkening
sapphire sky,
In which the June sun's gaze
still has warmth.
But also the fifth dance in a
summer party,
Where the participants flow in sync with
notes and voices;
Rhythmic flows and beats:
This way first,
Then second that.
Perhaps it's time to take up
the offer and rejoin
the Dance.