Here’s a poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago.
Leaves turn golden and fall to the ground—
. Falling down,
. Falling down,
. Fall to the ground.
Still, not a rustle meets ear, nor a sound,
. Though faerie feet trample through heaps all around.
Trample, and trample, though none their steps hears;
Like quiet, soft hopes; like dark, creeping fears.
Then, in the clearing, they pause for a dance:
. Turning and
. Turning ’round,
. Turning in dance.
Oh! what a sight to see faerie feet prance
. ‘Neath the rust-moon of the harvest, advance.
Then they are gone, like the moonbeams that shine:
Here for a moment, then skyward they climb—
Onward, like pilgrims, and upward, like vines.
The evening of October 31 (the day I wrote this poem) we had an English Country Dance. We’ve been having these dances as a small community for almost two years now, and they are absolutely wonderful! It’s the type of 1700s dancing seen in Jane Austen-type movies where a group of people goes through a set of steps and patterns set to beautiful—typically fiddle—tunes. Instructions for many of the dances can be found online—you should try it at home! Here’s a website with dance instructions and some videos: http://dominiondance.com/. Get together a few friends and teach yourselves a couple of dances; my favourite is Physical Snob, but to start, try Yellow Stockings (it’s one of the more simple ones and teaches some necessary steps). Keep in mind that you don’t need to be graceful, especially when you first start. Just have fun!
What a blessing to have beautiful words, music, and diversions like these!