He has a front row seat in his great

room.

 

A slim dancer in black and white tights

flies a kite on top of a tall curio cabinet.

The dancer dances close to a return

air vent so there is enough air to keep

the kite flying.

 

Just below, on the top of a railing of the

steps leading downstairs, a dancer in

black and white tights holds onto another

dancer in black and white tights who

leans out over the stairwell.

 

On the very top shelf of a corner hutch,

a very tall, sensuous dancer in black and

white tights stands on point with back

arched, arms uplifted, the other leg pointing

skyward and black hair flying.

 

On the shelf immediately below the top

shelf a dancer in black and white tights

lifts another dancer in black and white

tights holding that dancer suspended

in mid-air.

 

Given the matching tights, the man guesses

the dancers are all in the same company

and are there to perform for him because,

after all, it is his great room.

 

In the silence, he hears Debussy, Faure,

Ravel, Copeland, Brubeck, Stravinsky,

and, of course, Tchaikovsky.

 

For a moment on the summer evening,

the man sees his daughter in the kitchen

when she was eight wearing black and

white tights dancing and pulling a sleigh

through the snow.