Lacemakers

Waltz of the Flowers

52 Waltz฀of฀the฀Flowers It’s been years, but I could still sing you through. Older now and tuned to the frank reply gravity gives every leap, no matter how high—ready to be merely one of many onlookers, moved, yes, but unremarkable. There were times in childhood when waiting for the older girls in the wings, I’d hear something of sorrow’s small darts in the music, how the minor harmonies let the waltz’s grand swells transcend, how the wilting and release of spent petals fringe Tchaikovsky’s score, the waltzing flowers’ bloom. The dancers, their thin ankles flexing with the spring of their frames, the lines that make of their bodies arabesque as swept as calligraphy, humming as a taut wishbone: brief. ...