Dignity’s own dance

What did she convey when she moved thus
A branch of willow bending to the lake?
So eloquent the gesture,with no fuss;
So brief , yet   there,  an image I could take.

We dance with gestures,  sometimes seen and shared;
With awkwardness as   over desks we’ve bowed.
Yet in these movements , our deep self is bared
And  given dignity when  none’s allowed

For as there is no name for this, our form;
No vigilante’s listed it as sin
And so our human dance goes on and on
From what is now and what  once might have been.

We are all partner’s in the earthly dance,
From serendip to  glorious happenstance