Word-dancing

 Dear Reader,

I had been out to dinner and when I got home wrote the poem "Word-dancing".  I had had such a lovely evening, delicious food and inspiring conversation with the people on my left and on my right.  I can't remember if they were male or female but either way they were full of gaiety and information about a hundred different things.  From Jane Austen, and which book was our favourite, to whether Waitrose was really any better for shopping than, say, the Co-op.  We discussed foreign travel and I remember saying that Lyme Regis in Dorset, England, was just the ticket for me as a holiday destination. So lots of memories and fun exchanging views and values with like minded people.  

But what I wondered on the way home what did young people do for word-dancing? It seems to me that they spend a great deal of time watching their mobiles or texting, not talking or laughing or just enjoying human company. No they are silent but occupied. Dreadful.  Not wanting to sound smug I am very glad I lived in a time when good conversation was the norm, and exchanging laughter and ideas was fun.

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From S.T. Coleridge, 1827, February 28th, in Highgate

What an interval! Heard the singing birds this morning  in our garden for the first time this year, though it rained and blew fiercely; but the long frost has broken up, and the wind, though fierce, was warm and westerly.

From John Ruskin, 1876, February 28th, in Oxfordshire

I saw some blessed purple walls against sunshine among the farms, and seemed to find my life again on the green banks. 

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Word-dancing

 

 

 

The woman discovers the double act

of word-dancing at dinner,

recognizes with excitement

mutual friends from books, from poetry,

from world’s explored, but only

known thus far in solitude.

 

Together they dance through imagined lands

sharing knowledge,

throwing words back and forth

in light ethereal movements,

cerebral binding and bonding,

now the foxtrot, now the waltz..

 

For her these pleasures

are found at lunch parties, at dinner,

in libraries, on courses.

But where can the young word-dance?

Her grandson lunches on the run,

dines with Eastenders, 

goes clubbing on  solitary trips

too noisy,  frightening, for word-dancing,

for cerebral binding and bonding

now the foxtrot, now the waltz.

 

                                                                               *

 

With very best wishes, Patricia