Clair de Lune

She arrived in a pale green gown
to remind me of summer nights
when childhood dreams
flitted through my mind
along with the moth who,
drawn to the light I read by,
alighted on my window screen
to inspire my daytime dances.

I remember one summer
(Perhaps I was ten)
when I dug through a box
of old hand-me-down clothes
to discover some curtains
of pale green gauze,
which I draped on my body,
Isadora-style,
though I didn't know who she was
at the time.

I became the moth...
the Luna Moth,
hopelessly drawn
to the light of the moon,
as the delicate strains
of Clair de Lune
compelled my body
to dance this dance...
this ephemeral dance,
of irresistible striving
to reach the light...
to enter the light...
to become the light.

My passionate undulations, along with some semblance of those original pale green curtains, have accompanied me through all of my dancing life. I still feel the pull now and then, and Debussy's Clair de Lune is one with my soul, can be heard and heeded, no matter what music is playing. In silence, the strains can be heard by my secret self, drawing me nearer and nearer toward the light. No wonder I sighed with recognition and relief when the Luna Moth returned and alighted where I could find her.