At twilight, frost fell
An ethereal net of gossamer
As dreams parted.
the smell of cabbage rose
In short whirls of boiling smoke
In the kitchen as Marva washed
The floor with raw hands
On her round, rough knees
The soap oozing in swirls
Like mad bluebirds circling
But in her head she was waltzing
Dancing and twirling
One, two, three, one, two, three
Farther away from the kitchen
In the sure arms of a bridegroom
Handsome in spring
Like a czarina balancing herself
On the curve of the moon.