by Kay Newhouse
For the bend of back and fall of head
For close, for fast, for slow
For trust displayed
Let us give thanks
For the way the crowd’s applause falls like rain around us
For the lights that follow us
For the chandeliers that break this light into scattered eggshells on the floor
Let us give thanks
For your fingers folding around mine in gentle curl
For this way you hold my hand and pull me in
For the moment that you ask, again, and wait till I say yes, again
Let us give thanks
For the movement you give to my low spine with your press of wrist against my ribs
For your breath, this quiet exhale in my ear
For my breath, held high in my ribs and then released
Let us give thanks
For this music
For these rhythms passed to us from our ancestors who called rain and sun and spring
For the pulse we find together in this song
Let us give thanks
For your eyes looking into mine
For the way you do not look away
For you, this dance, and me
Let us give thanks
And let us dance
Kay Newhouse loves the way community springs up in all our corners, if we let it. She finds joy in bread baking and in teaching nervous people to dance with abandon and joy.