O her looks!
Strong, authentic and wild: unapologetic;
Her feminine long mane swirls and bounces, tapping and tinking to the timbre of her step on the floor.
In her bare feet, a melodic pride that changes with each song
She does not chase Beauty,
she is beauty:
Sweet tempered and precise.
O her movements!
And her bare feet
Catch the beat with musical precision like a declaration of time and space,
That which is hers.
And her heart sets on a determined path, up for interpretation so she follows her follower.
Listening, feeling the strength from the floor to her boleo, from the floor to her follower’s powerful boleo
Is strapping and stark
with a staccato
emphasized with a sacada.
O her touch!
To be enveloped in her embrace, to hug and walk and pause and flow,
Is freeing and protected.
Her breath is yours, connected and full.
She snuggles tighter as the music inhales,
the rest is loud, the rush of the next beat and step never comes.
Certainly, she pursues the violin’s long, high note
with a gentle, firm lift of the breath in her ribs, imperceptible to any other besides her follower
A caliseta that winds around and around
finally comes down
with the release of the player’s bow.
The song closes,
the body, breath, and beat sigh.