dancers in bronze

The ladies along the shoreline dance,
willowy, zoftig, expressing their glee;
they strut their stuff, those with hair aflame,
in a perichoresis of love.  And we

who behold them, laugh at them, with them,
and join in the dance, sisters and friends.
Bronzed and immobile they gambol still
as one silly goose looks on with chagrin.

All up and down the river they joyfully dance
and no one on the promenade thinks it odd,
for the dance is forever, an eternal
celebration making glad the city of God.

Liz McFadzean