Dancing on the little spit of land
somewhere between
here and there.
All by my little self, all alone.
The spring wildflowers
are small and white
with hints of pink and purple.
Please, why is that?
I dance to music only I can hear.
The birds must think I am insane,
and, perhaps, I am.
It feels so good to be insane
after so many years
of being sane and not dancing.