Going home

I was driving home from dance

and the traffic lights

(red, also in the random droplets

on my windshield)

swayed in the wind —

A gentle undulation

in perfect time

with the shimmery piano music

in my car.

And I could see the music everywhere —

In the slow glide of lights,

and the orchestrated movement

of the traffic.

And in my breath

was the scent

of many people

with whom I’d shared the magic

of the dance.

Going home,

and taking with me

what my body, grateful,

once again had found:

The matrix of connection

and its sweet embrace

that holds us in the music

all the time.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 5, 2013