The Dancing Child

Like a leaf in the wind,
Blowing here, blowing there;
Darting up, dropping down,
In the cool autumn air.
Arms outflung, poised on toe,
Like a flash on the sward;
Glancing back as she flies
Arrow-like from the cord.
Arms on high, whirling round,
As from sheer joy of heart,
Now she laughs and is gone.
Is it life? Is it art?
Like a leaf in the wind,
Blowing here, blowing there;
She's a thistle-down puff
Floating free in the air.

Edith Granger Hawkes