The Tavern Keeper
offered me a drink
from the Moon's silver chalice.
As I tipped it to my lips,
I prayed, 'O Beauty,
make me like yourself! '
The sky began to dance and whirl,
the hoopskirt of a fragrant woman.
She held my hands
and took me whirling with her.
I danced through the night with Night!
And when morning came,
she turned from whirling
in her dark blue skirt,
and offered me
her rosy face
Max Reif
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dance-1996/
