The rain has filled up the circus tent, lithe
figures walking out of the wet floor to take their positions in the ring.
Spotlights create mirrors as they climb up thin vines
to the trapeze at the top. Aerial acrobatics
for anyone wanting to watch, energy matching
the stink of old straw, popcorn and tinsel pompoms left behind.
Outside, the sun breaks through and sends evening’s fire
around the grounds, sneaking into the big top as the act begins.
The performer jumps and evaporates, nothing more than steam.
Treeshallow Musings 