She Moves In Rain-Dances. Poem by Andrew David Dalby

In entering in this sacred circle
I'm entranced by their sacred song
That allows the senses here to mingle
As all the rain-dancers move as one.
Here, in swelling spirals of pure perfection
Rest rings that rest in finite form
Each person in their intimate motion
yet in unity they move as one.

In rich old dusted roads they pace and ponder
Caught by the blood orange of the twilight fire
Their bodies sweat soaked wracked and wrestle
With invisible elemental's of desire.
In their movement I sense her presence
Whilst in their prayers I trace her stare
And in their sighs, their calls
My spirit wanders
Until I face her features fair.