THE WINTER SEASON
The curtain of autumn
Lifts colourfully up,
Revealing performers and actors
And other such factors.
While a glittering gauze
of slanting rain
drapes a curtain of murk
over the choreographer’s work.
The orchestra tunes
and the music swells,
High pitched concertinas
of hysteria screaming.
The ballet builds apace
an intricate dance
of advances and retreats,
And entrechats and leaps
Pirouetting bodies
and high kicking legs.
Sinews straining, arms flung tall
towards the illusive spinning ball.
Victory floating in the balance
Soft shoed boots tilt and point
Towards the stage goals
Of white painted poles.
At last the finale is reached
And in grease painted mud
And lit by media evidence,
Is the troupe’s last appearance.
And that cyclops eyed monster,
that audience of critics and fans,
Shows clamourous appreciation
Of their players’ hard won accreditation.
oooOooo
© Margaret Pearce
