Dance

 

Danced a hornpipe on the stream

to its continuous applause.

60% water, the moon full,

I was, indeed, at the top of my form,

clicking the stones

and stomping up spray,

quavers and crotchets draining

from my heels;

and the rooks on the tops of the trees

were roaring me on, breaking into jigs

themselves, they were,

and the sky full of jingly silver

and shooting concertina notes.