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