Ballet in the Piney Woods
Little girl sunsuits littered the wiregrass.
Summer warmed small bronze bodies
that danced on the stage of a fallen oak,
to songbirds’ music from the mayhaw.
They felt, at five, the kiss of butterflies
upon their eyes, breathed honeysuckle air.
Like sylphs set free they twirled, arms open,
gathering the breeze against their bareness.
Chastised for their boldness by older girls
who barged into their glade,
the innocents saw themselves
and were ashamed.
By Glenda C. Beall
Published first by Silver Boomer Books in the anthology "Freckles to Wrinkles."
Beautiful images, Glenda.
ReplyDeleteReminds me of my girls. Very nice!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Joan and Tipper, for coming by and commenting.
ReplyDeleteLove both your blogs.
What a sweet poem! Can't wait to read your book.
ReplyDelete