it is here

that I hear

the mixolydian rhythm

in that of true flamenco

with her dancin in a pretty dress.

she was like a fruit

from a tree –

sweet on the veranda

drippin in maturity

in the expressives.

sweepin and rhythmic movements

dancin in air,

leavin me a concept

to choreograph words

as a like soloist

in music of the body.