Age Become Young or Whirling Dervish
Four Variations on a Theme
i
If I were not to go that way again
not be compelled to go on to the
end
never know what she’d intend
should I get too near
not see her face up close and real
only what would seem surreal
if I saw her going by
if I would go that way again
would I find her playful spirit?
sparkling with spray
poised on a rock
water falling from hills
diamonds in her hair
November sunlight
piercing autumn leaves
almost falling
if I went that
way
ii
If I were not to go that way again
not be compelled to go on to the
end
getting close never know what
she’d intend
stolen glimpses impossible to
obtain
going past grey stone walls her
tears will stain
not rent by wind
her tender face to tend
with alarm sudden
calm surreal transcend
if she opened her door wide to my
brain
would I go unashamed that way once
more
would I find her radiant in a
stream
glistening with
river spray from up high
shards of
sunlight piercing autumn’s score
bright leaves
before fall lit by a sunbeam
caressed by
darknesses’ breathless sigh
iii
Now summer’s gone again he’ll go
that way
survey what remains after autumn’s
fall
mark those leaves left on maple
trees decay
walk unswept narrow pathways past
that hall
where his mind listens with all
its senses
making his brain’s
most cogent images
transit passively
time’s active tenses
searching for a signal that
assuages
his disengagement as he passes by
leaving an impress on only those
leaves
now only these words can carry his
cry
through sound stone walls to the
place where she weaves
a lone wolf howls at the moon for
its mate
out in the wilderness beyond her
gate
iv
if I walked on by
not looking back
not seeing a whirlpool of leaves
where sudden gusts stirred
a whirling dervish
arms outflung
spinning ever faster
into a trance
age become young
copyright © Dick Russell
2017, 2023
