496 Steps with a Sapphire Butterfly

My feet know this path
My eyes, these woods
My way so familiar
My presence is hardly needed

I glance at you fleetingly
(because I am busy, thinking)
Only long enough to elide past you
With a half-formed ‘oh yes, that’ (thinking, busy)
Thinking we have only chanced together
(because I am busy, ‘ah, yes, this’)
But you would have us dance together

I am charmed at first
Then somewhat alarmed
You tangle me I fall
Out of rhythm with myself
I am out of step on my own path
Disjointed, fumbling, stumbling into
A new dance I don’t understand
The partnership of the half-formed
‘yes, oh yes, this is what I was made for
Why you are here with me and I with you’
You weave yourself around me, fleetingly,
Never quite with me never quite leaving me
At last I catch your rhythms
I fall into the slow . . . slow . . .
Quick-quick-slow sliding gliding tango
Down a path my feet once knew
My way, now remembered, so familiar
A presence fills the woods and I embrace
Without question the chances of my body
Though I am whole unto myself
Yet do I choose to open
My soul to you my heart
To your heart

Anyone walking toward me
On the path would see
Only a woman, so familiar
A woman hardly needed.
They do not see Psyche
And her sapphire butterfly
Dancing in the August woods.