Posted in Poetry

When cranes dance


Their wings fluttering gracefully by the lake

Guarded by dryads, naiads, elves, and dwarfs

Shimmering iridescently in midnight moonlight,

The ancient birds dance along the borderlines

between mythology and history, hither and thither

Till daybreak and fly away beyond the Misty Arc.

P.S. Elsewhere in the world, people have believed that cranes dance at night when no mortals are around to transform themselves into human forms; then they choreograph their courtship, wooing and wooed. Mysterious and ancient, a crane is a bird of the misty past, of the uncertain present, and of the unknown future. Its regal poise makes wherever it stays a heavenly palace and entrances me into the whirlwind of Magic and Myth.