Poetry is not a major part of my creative activity, but here are a couple of poems inspired by contra dancing.
When she squeezed my hand as we went forward and back, I thought,
“She probably squeezes everyone’s hand.”
And when she clamped my hand to her right hip during the promenade, I thought,
“Well, you’ve got to deal with centrifugal force somehow.”
Then we gypsied,
And unlike so many, she looked into my eyes as if she really meant it.
So by the time we melted down into a swing, it was a bit of an anticlimax,
Because my heart had melted many beats before.
Dancers cross the set
A two-beat conversation