Sparks (or not)
Emitted from the fire, their tiny illumination endures for the briefest of moments…then, they are gone

Confession: the secret tryst of a pole vaulter

I wait, rehearsing the steps in my mind
At the end of the runway – the bar, as a taunting rival – silently stands
even daring to touch the object of my dreams
I lift my eyes to the deep blue beckoning of my tantalizing partner

The music begins…

Like a charger-mounted knight I raise the lance
Fair Lady waits with a wink of romance
If strength and form come together perchance
the sky and the rider will embrace in the dance

Planting the pole, it bends like a hickory bow
I lay back, thrusting feet upward at the bow’s release
Straight as an arrow, into a handstand I twist – six meters high
Then, as a jackknife closing, over the bar

Releasing the pole, on my partner entranced
I pass over my rival with nary a glance

When the aerie Lady and I join hands
for the briefest of moments
, ours is the dance

The music fades…

As if torn from a lover, I fall back to earth
The lingering fragrance, the fading notes sustain my joy a little longer
Then, the cheers remind me: the crowd sees only the jilted rival
They know nothing of the sky dance.  Just as well…

Secrecy only sweetens its beauty.

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One Response to “Confession: the secret tryst of a pole vaulter”

  1. You captured the essence of so many things in here…of the joy of vaulting over that beam, of music that touches the soul and of love that is transcendental


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