“We need to believe in simple things.”
She said with a curtsy and a smile.
Then, removing her shoes, steps up to begin
The wind and the waves seem to chant
in flute and fiddle and drum,
while a white-robed chorus alights behind her.
Chimeric amazement occurs
before the hypnotized crowd
as she portrays stories of love, co-reliance
and, yes, simple things.
Portentous clock strikes backwards and forwards
through seasons, epochs, in time to expressive parade.
Not of Czars and Wars, Events or Inventions.
leaves falling, snow drifting, folk singing,
birds calling, bread cooling, children embracing
And soon the crowd becomes a joyous dancing throng
of beaming celebration. Each remembrance, special moments,
capacious breaths on dew-dropped dawns of spring,
warmth of a loved one’s hand,
bravery of everyday rebellions.
She speaks once more before dissolving
into verdant effervescent mist:
“Believe not in salvation nor sin nor in reward —
we must act as we can,
and believe in simple things.”