Hippos dance

Inside a small pocket
of a parking lot
on a hill just outside town,
there is a small
yet encompassing dance.
To say hips are involved
belies what constitutes
limits between the ears.
There is no real music,
that is true.
There is nobody to see
the intricate steps or notice
a soul-shifting smile.
The earth only shifts a little.
But there is a shift, maybe like
that of a bird tilting its wings
against the wind or maybe
a hippo losing itself to
weightlessness in water.
But it happens most days
around lunchtime
and it is glorious.


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