Minuet in D


You probably thought I took last week off because I was intimidated by the three forms of dance folks suggested to me: Minuet, Rondelet, and Flailing One’s Arms Wildly to the Beat of Drums. You would not be wholly wrong. Also I spent several days coughing up first one lung and then the other (even days, right; odd days, left).

The minuet is a dance of small steps, which is apparently what the word means (also, menu, as it happens). So we are going to do just that this week, take small steps toward health and that whole Breathing Without Coughing thing. So a haiku pour vous:

Spring robins skitter

Through new grass, look up to see

Raccoon in the tree.

Spring Promise


Now every breath is a scintillation of birdsong.

This fat little chickadee singing high and loud

Over the mild urban uproar: such a tiny feathered

Body to make such a big sound. Now yellow

Proclaims herself Empress of Grass, with squads

Of daffodils marching in her army. Now, after

A quick rain, the still bare branches hold onto

Raindrops like placeholders for the buds to come.

In the background, the snowbells ring out

A farewell to winter. Now only the dogwood

Will send its petaled snowflakes down on us.

Now, we throw off hibernation like a dark wool

Duffel coat as March clomps away in heavy boots.