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