Restless,
I dance Vivaldi,
bare-armed, bare-footed—
the misty, ancient ritual.
Warm under snowflakes,
tingling,
upon All Hallow's Eve.
Smelling smoke, fire, mystery.
Twirling by candlelight—
for there are goblins about.
The door squeaks open—
and warmed by the first fire,
I turn to look—
upon a violin's quiver!
Cold,
I ask the flames;
Flickering crescendo, they answer—hot!
And I curl up, cat-like.
Stretching,
looking outwards,
anticipating the shivering, quivering hush
of bare-armed, bare-footed
mischief—
the dance ends,
the candle blown,
upon a violin's echo of understood Amens—
as deafening snowflakes
fall—
restless.