Letters

The beat is steady, unsyncopated

The singing wordless, the melody minor.

The dances symbolic, ceremonial

The grass dance, the smoke dance,

The shawl dance, the blanket dance,

The jingle dress dance.

Each dance has a story.

Colorful regalia, feathers, beads, and bells

Leggings and breechcloths, moccasins, and shawls

The children dance and I watch.

I have watched them for years

As I have watched their parents.

At first tripping, awkward, unable to keep the beat

And now precise, expressive,

Having learned to contain youthful exuberance

With respect and dignity

They spin with the accented beat

They stop exactly when the music ends.

Lorna Coppola

Mastic

Coppola is a member of the Hampton Bays-based writing group Poets Rising — Ed.