Waltzing with the Wind
On a crisp golden day in autumn,
tufts of clouds drift through endless sky.
The wind tugs my sleeves
as it sweeps up the leaves
and teaches them how to fly.
The music begins with a whisper,
and branches all sway to the song.
The wind takes my hand
as it strikes up the band,
and I find myself dancing along.
Eager leaves, crimson, orange, and yellow,
leap and soar from each flame-colored tree.
The wind makes me twirl
as the leaves bow and swirl
in a flurry that whirls around me.
We glide, and we dip, and we circle
in a waltz of an autumn hue.
The music’s entrancing,
and while we are dancing,
each leaf has a partner, too.
Then a hush settles down from the treetops
as the wind tiptoes off with the tune.
The leaves touch the ground,
and I can’t hear a sound.
The dancing is over too soon.
I wait, and I watch, and I listen,
but the leaves have all flown from the trees.
The branches are bare.
There’s no sign anywhere
of the magical, musical breeze.
In the distance, a single note echoes.
One last leaf spirals down from the sky.
It beckons to me.
As it spins, I can see
that the wind is waving goodbye.
You, too, can watch and hear Paolo Montalban and Brandy sing “Ten Minutes Ago: Waltz for a Ball” from Cinderella (1997).
JoAnn Early Macken
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