April 12: If I were cavorting . . .

If I were cavorting, deep in the woods,
dancing where no one can see,
is my song filled with ‘coulds’ or ‘shoulds,’
or am I left simply to be
myself, under the dark green trees,
hearing birds sing their own nocturnes,
the rustle, the wings, a warm breeze,
even at night, I feel patterns
as simple as moss under my feet,
and joy in my heart, surprise at a vision
of trolls, ready to dance with me,
dancing where no one can see.

Efraimstochter on Pixabay

Today, I wanted something whimsical as it truly is Day 32 of self-quarantine. I wonder how many of us still dream of dancing.