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' ICEDANCER- Il ballo Della Principessa di Ghiaccio-{An Afterlight}

_______THE OVERTURE_________

In engaging a walk, 'pon a Winter's crisp morn,
On a snow-feathered path,
Draped by ice-ladened branches,
My eye's found a pond of most striking impression-
Mother Nature's touch of December's bliss;
Crystalized Ice in the shape of a Heart,
An ardor of Winter's majesty.


_________THE SCAPE________

____________ | ____________

Subtle breezes stir the pines,
As i approach the glaced pond.
Wafts of snow leave their landing
My face [looking up] is bedaubed
By a freckling of snowmist.
And the pond, an image of celestial capture,
Is a figuration of amorous grandeur.


____________ | | ____________

Its surface iced and hued in shades of silver and amber;
Like a prism slowly rising to the call of the new day.
A spindrifting breeze
Snares the cusp of my nose-
And my eyes close.
The wind changes course...my ear's are alerted
To a clarion whispering about me.


______DANCE OF THE ICE______

_____________ | ____________
Opening my eyes with anxious emotion,
I behold a most utopic image.
'Tis a Maiden donned softly in white linen gown,
Kneeling, poised, at the edge of the pond.
Lacing gold bladed skates, with pearl-studded leather,
Reflecting their beauty, off the Suns morning glare.
Nodding her head, she acknowledges my presence...
And my heart, skips a beat, as our eyes connect.

_____________ | | ___________

I respond with a shy, boyish grin;
A curling, sweet smile adorns her flawless visage.
She engages the Ice...spins, begins her dance;
Swirling, encircling, captured in whimsy,
Each movement a freeze-frame of eloquence.....
My breath far behind me, as she raises her arms,
And with her eyes, she beckons me closer.


_________THE DISPAIR________

_____________ | _____________

Sweat on my temples, Sun gaining strength...
I haven't much time, the daybreak is warm.

_____________ | | _____________

Mother Nature no friend now, to my Lady of Ice;
I must counter and find her a cold winter shadow.
And, stumbling to the pond, alas i reach, but descry-
A puddle... chilled mudied water... my Maiden, begone.
Teardrops from my wincing eye in unashamed sorrow;
The wonder if my Lady escaped her arctic eclipse -
The soulburning Hope, i will see her dance once again.


__________THE HOPING__________

And i sit by this pond, awaiting the night's frosted stage,
And my Icedancer's Encore.........



___By Frank James Ryan, Jr.___
from 'The Verve of Passion & Peril
__Watermark Press Inc./ (c) 2005__

Submitted: Sunday, June 30, 2013
Edited: Thursday, July 25, 2013


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