Community Blog

My Dancing Day by Willie Burge

By Shannon Dahl

I woke this morning at the sun up hour

To a mocking bird dancing on the windmill tower.

He sang and danced and danced and sang

‘Til the hills’ echoes shrilled and rang.

The sun inched off and spawned a breeze

That danced the leaves on the cotton and trees

And danced little ripples on the big stock tank

Where horses and cows and Mourning Doves drank

The rising sun’s slanting shine

Danced the blossoms on the morning-glory vine

That protected the porch’s sunny space

From the somber sun’s dancing, glaring face.

The dancing sun continued it’s rise

To it’s zenith in the cotton ball studded skies

The cotton balls danced in a dance unknown

Except to them and the wind alone.

The sun reached it’s zenith and started down

Toward the hilltop’s rocky crown

Dust devils danced in profusion across the fields

Of  cotton and grain and uncertain yields.

The dancing rays of the feeble sun

Announced the day was nearly done

The Bull-bats dancing their dizzying dive,

Then the nocturnal world was coming alive.