<I>at the fete du bons vieux temps - Cahokia, Illinois</I> <br /> <br />White clouds of rosin dust <br />Flew off Geoff's fiddle strings <br />As his earth dance <br />Soared above the pulsing <br />Of friends on bass and guitar. <br /> <br />Tuniced men bowed <br />To their bonneted ladies <br />Bedecked in colonial frocks. <br />In turn each pair sashayed <br />Down and up the line, <br />Whirled and laced their way <br />Through outstretched hands <br />Of family, friends and neighbors <br />Shaping an arch at line's end <br />For all the rest to pass beneath. <br /> <br />All across our country's timescape <br />Countless bridal pairs <br />Have sealed their sacraments <br />Spinning in the whirlwind <br />Of the Virginia Reel - <br />With each interclasping of arms <br />A blessing upon their unions. <br /> <br />Geoff lifted his bow from the strings, <br />And bowed with his band to receive <br />The applause rippling the air <br />Like the patter of ancestral rain <br />Nourishing the sweet soil <br />Of our common earthly essence. <br /> <br /><I>February, 2007</I><br /><br />Robert Charles Howard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/virginia-reel/
