Slow Dancing all by herself…

When one sees a gentle wind caress an unending field of tall wheat into undulating regular and natural waves of movement, one can sense the rhythm of earth’s natural laws and the beauty displayed

Another aspect is the easy and regular rise and fall of small wind waves on a sandy beach in moonlight or sunlight in mist and fog, rising and falling according to the pull of gravity and the push of the warm wind.

Both added to by the scent of sea and plant, the sounds of wind and wave, the colors of ocean and field combined into a total greater than the sum of the parts; a feeling, an emotion from within, natural, fulfilling, quietly awe inspiring causing breath to change and commingle with the elements.

The room was muted with laughter and tinkles and a piano, bass and guitar. The room was lovely with the ebony Grand, the yawning top pegged open. The carpet was thick and luxurious and color matched to compliment mahogany and cherry bookshelves and framed mirrors surrounded by similar warm polished woods.

Those present were dark coat and tie and formal dresses, long and short and multi-color scattered in two’s and three’s, like tall and short moveable obelisks with appendages slightly out of focus and impressionistic to the eye.

And there she was.

A single focalization in an alcove out of sight of most; behind a formal leather chair of deep dull black leather and arms.

It seemed she did not move at all by any human means, but swayed and undulated like the field of grass or the bosom of the sea.

Her eyes were closed as I silently and slowly moved closer; her head swayed from side to side and her chin lifted in silent response to chord changes and notes in the high range of the instrument.

I felt I was watching a woman in a bath, unclothed, face raised to cascading liquid that caressed her body as it coursed around and down and away.

The white satin silk of her blouse stretched and relaxed across her breasts and beneath her arms down to her wrists and tightly to her throat as the slow sinuous movement consumed her body oblivious to me; to all but the music and her thoughts.

Her dress was dark blue and belted, tight across the front and back halfway down the marvelous surge of hip, clinging to the slow thrust of thigh against the willing material that swirled and shifted as she swayed.

Barefooted, she fondled with her feet the texture beneath with toes splayed and flexing with sensual intent.

Her face was delicate and dreamlike to my eyes, with high cheekbones and a clear forehead touched by tendrils of dark hair that joined the dance and lovingly soothed her skin. Her lightly colored lips slightly parted and I could feel her breath in rhythm to the rise and fall of her chest and the beating of her heart in her neck; of course I could not, but I did.

From side to side in slow motion her hair fell thus and thus in gentle waves of softness and scent I could sense from afar, though I yearned my face to know.

Her shoulders as if being caressed, moved to unseen hands, responded to unknown thoughts of amorous content; or so I imagined through my eyes and into my thoughts.

I felt myself matching her moves in miniature, in micro movements of my body complimenting the ebb and flow, the rise and fall of her celebration of movement.

A final sustained resolving chord and the final thump of the Bass; the music stopped, her eyes opened, green and warm.

“I felt you arrive, inside the music.” She said and smiled and lowered her eyes.