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Danse de la Vie

by Karl Waldbauer

The Mountain Top

The old man woke up stiff and sore, like so many times before. It seemed he had been doing this since the dawn of time. So cold, so gray. The dance, ah, yes, the dance. Keep focused old man, he had to remind himself.
I wonder how the old woman, my sister, is feeling this morning. They were both the same age...very old, but the old woman has incredible energy, an amazing ability to rebound again and again. Don't worry, he thought, she thrives on the dance. If the truth be know, so did the old man, but he didn't really like to admit it.
His hair was a floating dark gray mass, matching his dark gray eyes. His skin was loose, gray, with red splotches. Worn out and cold, he thought, but soon the dance.

Down in the Valley

She woke and felt that familiar heat in her belly. Not a fire, yet, a mild slow warmth. Today the dance, she thought and smiled thinking of her wrinkled brother up on his windy mountain. She arose, her flat, drooping breasts nearly reaching her waist. Her hips were wide and now fat from bearing all the children she had suckled before they went out into the world. All those babies, all that life...her brother was good for something, she thought.
She splashed water on her face and made it oddly tighter, more glowing, you might say. Water! There will be plenty of that soon enough she thought and smiled again.
She washed her pendulous breasts and her slack thighs. If you had been watching this ancient crone, you would be quite taken by the energy she seemed to radiate as she performed her morning toilette. Could it be that her hips were getting slimmer? Surely those breasts weren't getting firmer like her belly appeared to be doing.
She hummed to herself and thought of her babies, all of her many babies, born over so many years. It is said all women become radiant when they think of their lovers and their babies...it certainly is true of this timeless old woman.

Back on the Mountain

The old man left his mountain top and headed down to the old woman's valley. Ah, her valley, he thought, and picked up his step. He inhaled deeply and the trees seemed to bow as he walked by. Yes, this should be a very good day and a better night. He inhaled and a button popped off his shirt. Oh, yes, it's happening again as always, he observed. Two young girls driving their sheep along the path stopped to stare at the man. "What a handsome old man" one told the other and they giggled and walked past him blushing. He felt his chest expand, his muscles tighten and enlarge. Once again he felt that anxious glow in his groin. Soon enough, he would be ready for the dance.


A bonfire was lit in the ancient oak grove, just as the Equinox sun was setting. Drums, primal and demanding, were heard. The huge oaks seemed to move with the inescapable beat. Into this scene strode a most magnificent woman. Long, thick dark hair fell around her sensuous face. Her body gleamed in the fire light, unfettered by clothing of any kind. Her rounded hips and firm breasts were the ideal depicted by artists through the ages. Most striking were her eyes; dark brown eyes the color of the richest, most fertile soil. She undulated slowly, turning and dancing in the flickering light.
From the shadows there appeared her masculine equal. He was Adonis, Dionysius, Apollo, the perfect virile man. Blonde hair and sky blue eyes complimented her earthy coloring.
He heard her greet him and then they began the Dance of Life, the eternal dance of creation. The drums were pounding now, that familiar, insistant beat, as his sister Earth once again united with Heaven to bring Spring and new life to the world.


Posted on 07/08/2003
Copyright © 2022 Karl Waldbauer

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/08/03 at 04:00 PM

Karl... great depictions of the great wheel and the cycle of life. Tremendous imagery.

Posted by Anne Engelen on 07/09/03 at 03:47 PM

totally breathtaking story! Most enjoyable!! I love it:)

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/25/08 at 04:10 PM

The older I get the more I savor these kinds of observations and story telling. "She hummed to herself and thought of her babies" - phrases like this give a simple reality within the extraordinary. I must say I did not see where this was going and enjoyed the final meeting immensely.

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