for Tara
The gauziness and smiles are as soft-edged
and wonderful as a Degas. Around me,
shadows on lawn chairs consult programs;
an early summer breeze flutters leaves
beneath a star-laced, darkened sky.
My daughter dances to Strauss's Annen Polka,
floating with the wide-eyed innocence
of a nine-year-old who has yet to glimpse
the world of the backstage. Look at her
taut sureness, the steadiness and poise,
the promise of her young movements
as they transcend choreography with a joy that,
one can only hope, will buoy her through a life
filled with huge pockets of uncertainty.
