It starts with one.
A single, solitary dancer
silhouette black in the dusky sky.
Flights of pirouette, glisser across the deep blue stage.
In a pattern erratic at first
developing into an intricate repetition of delicate movements.
Without a sound, the one becomes two
still quick and nimble, a dance intertwined.
precision at high speed.
More dancers take the stage
each one knowing exactly its part.
For a moment the sky is full to overflowing.
Then one by one, each takes a bow
exits toward curtains of gray mountains and purple trees
leaving the stage of dying day empty except for pinprick stars.
The dance is done.