In the gazebo in the middle of the plaza in Old Town Salsa dancers collect to flounce around In the warmth of the sunset. And as the music ends they exit where they enter, A line of dresses brushing the earth, Jackets like liquid, slipping Through a parting in the careful carved wood of the structure - An old thing that still stands and still looks old - Blinking its eyes closed below a cotton candy sky Wrapping around itself, swirling Like the dancers, welcoming in the night.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Welcome! This is where I share my art.
Enjoy! More art (...less text / more images) here: "The object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable."
|