Poem by Tony Marsh
I watch dust-devil's dance ballet
They leap and glide across the fields
They arabesque and pas de chats
They rise and turn and grand-jete. And then sometimes they play catch
And chase one another.
They speed and slow and entrechats
They sing and whistle to each other. They raise the dust in columns high
And catching one another, still
They blow the leaves up to the sky,
For naught there is to stop their will. They curtsy low and rise up high,
And pirouette on tiptoe.
They leap and turn and grand-jete
Enjoy dust-devil's dance ballet
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