David Hightower - The Dancing Fool - free verse - Appalachian Poetry

THE DANCING FOOL

Every morning my wife and I see him
at the end of his driveway
waiting for the yellow bus,
earphones clamped religiously to his head.
His thin, awkward body whirls,
a desert dervish celebrating the dawn,
dancing to rhythms only he can hear.
Flesh and bone his tools,
music his muse,
he carves sculptures of air.
Invisible in the classroom,
he is a mythic god when alone,
eternally dancing
through our radio’s morning broadcast
of new diseases, scandals and wars,
immune to the patriotic slogans and somber speeches.
Only the young can be so joyously foolish,
so ignorant, so oblivious.
Every morning,
fall, winter, spring,
wet, cold, green,
he shares his rhythmic revelation
with two laughing teachers
on our way to school.
Thank you, God,
for dancing fools.