You will find her in a garden,
Dancing the dance of Spain.
You will find her absorbed in the breeze,
Where the scent of the orange blossoms reign.
With sensuous fingers and hands,
As if grasping a ripe pear,
Gently, they trace her curvaceous form,
Moving high, into the air.
The arm undulates, to the ground.
Invisible fruit is released.
Mournful eyes of the dancer follow,
As her head inclines.
This is Flamenco,
A Spanish dance.
Dedicated to my friend María, from Galicia,
who TRIED to teach me to dance Flamenco.