After the Ballet

Thoughts upon return from a relative's recital:

Can anything in the universe
compare to the beauty of
Woman Dancing?

No supernova in galactic bloom
no slender fawn nosing spring grass
no thundering waterfall
no temple of ivory and gold

Can compare to Her
can approach Her
for perfection of grace
for glory of form.

Her senses are keen
every muscle in tune
She first embraces the stage
then, birdlike, escapes it.

(Picture by Stano Novak)