Travels with Dad
V – Dance Floor
The band wears Bavarian hats,
notes float the breadth of the ballroom deck,
through the windows, woods and villages pass
at the beat of a polka.
The dancing passengers follow meandering bee paths
circles, dips, spirals, the familiarity
of partners who still bloom like perennials on these
nights of lights and harmonies, the spring
of a lit dance floor.
Lightfooted, the ship slips toward dusk, barely noticed,
deep-current harmonies of the
engines and tuba, the song of metal, serene, underfoot.
© Jonathan Bohrn (2007)