Macarana Poem by Cee Bea

they seem like they are dancing
in the snow and cold
basking in blue and bright

and I, with cocked head and
crooked thought,
decide to dance with them.
covered in snow
I wandered around a small acre
with a few trees, snapping photographs.

If it were possible...
(and maybe to tree's it is)
the cedar would swear they saw me
do the Macarana

in the cold, in the snow
in the back field,
where the winds howl became a song


at a place, that to me

is the most beautiful spot
on earth