For Sarah (Her nature cannot be rushed)

Imagine her,

She dances slowly,

no,

slower than that,

internalise it

first, the heart must move, and then the body may follow the music, like the trees follow the wind, like flowers follow the sun, like the ocean follows the tide.

Slow,

no,

slower than that,

nature cannot rush.

Just like she cannot be rushed. The heart will not allow it. The music will not allow it. The night will not be pushed aside by the eager sun, just as the world tapping at the window will not bestir her from the ponderous precision of her turning heel, turning toe,

She perches upon a branch, a step, a stage,

a bird upon a twig,

a blade of grass,

a drop of water

upon

a petal

in the warm

summer

afternoon

slow,

no,

slower than that,

internalise it,

she turns like bird on the wing,

ruffling her feathers and floating upon the shadows beneath her,

She is silent

while her heart speaks through her body

like the wind speaks through the trees

like the moon speaks through the tides

Imagine her dancing,

slow,

no, slower than that,

her nature cannot be rushed.