XXX. Sonnets for Dancer

My dearest moment, still yet holding on air

since ears seek wisdom and eyes, stairs

spiraling upward to sniff out true tunes

of the notes not noticed, the flow or blooms.

My clearest response, my only regard

is to send you the posies au pouvoir,

to ring you the bands, best bells toward

the skies still clamouring, the motions’ chord.

My nearest moment that I give to you

is the same that is past, present, and due;

it is the one that is found, then placed back again

in that deepest of hearts, the warmth within

our poignant rhyme, the blindest we sing

of the frigid air in the comfort of Spring.