comes to me on the cusp of spring
when peepers do a raucous prance,
their delicate rust and tiny throats
sending out an aural sex signal
that drives away tortoise-shell calico.
A friend stops to listen at the pond
and, in the din, describes the dance
lessons he’s taken up:
Waltz, Tango, the Schottische.
Every Thursday, he drives to town,
attending special classes for people
with two left feet. It seems the vow
he made a dozen years ago
to dance with his wife through
their shared life was more
than some imaginative metaphor,
for his wife is a writer
whose imagination has her
literally dancing through life.
My friend tells me that after
next week’s lesson, he’ll return
to teach me to dance with the peepers.
–Jim Lally,
Stick Tight Man
Accents Publishing