Dancing Naked (in French Beret)

“Dancing Naked 

(in a French Beret)”

It was an aquarian exposition, three days of Peace and Music.

A small patch of dewey grass near a tranquil farm pond

became our temporary home, sheltered from the sun

by a weeping willow, its limbs bowing gracefully towards our feet,

its trunk a sturdy backrest where we could steal a short nap,

lounging on an entwined patch quilt of shared blankets.

One scarlet panel was decorated with a dainty white lace trim,

there a pale, slender girl with long, straw blonde hair slept placidly,

the only movement, her thick hair tousled in the rare breeze,

her chest rising and falling in a slow gentle rhythm

to the sound of a solitary acoustic guitar softly strumming

the hypnotic melody of “Crystal Blue Persuasion”.

She was there alone, enjoying the music from this spot,

a mile from the stage, where it wafted in like the smell of fresh baked pie,

like the sound of a train’s horn a town away, mellow but distinct.

She danced solo in a jet black beret and a long ruby red scarf

undulating lithely, fluidly, humming along almost indistinctly

to the soulful gravel of Richie’s “Here Comes the Sun”.

After midnight, the rains came. She danced until her peasant blouse

and denim bell bottoms were soaked and cumbersome.

She theatrically shed them with a wail of mournful laughter that incited 

a tornado of seductive gyrations and sensual pirouettes,

choreographed to the exotic ragas of the tabla, tamboura and Ravi’s sitar 

Exhausted, spent, she fell silent, naked in her sea of scarlet fleece.

The sun rose to the whispers of Joan Baez still lingering in the air.

She lay motionless, fetal, beautifully subdued by the soft sunlight,

her beret and scarf clinging precariously to her fragile somnolence.

No protests, no marches, no Walter Cronkite, no Chappaquiddick,

no Tet Offensive, no Nixon, no Cuyahoga River, no Stonewall,

just peace and free love and flowers reflected in her image.

I felt the urge to cover her alluring form, her spectral visage,

yet feared it would be like imposing an opaque veil on Mona Lisa.

Instead I searched for Wavy Gravy and some food and hot coffee.

returning with enough for two, only to find a sodden, muddy, empty spot

where the scarlet square with white lace had been her magical stage, 

her temporary home, sheltered from the sun by a weeping willow.

"Dancing Naked (in French Beret)" was created using a primitive walking stick as the torso, antique barrel spout and file handle as the head and hair, a hand forged blacksmith's tongs for the legs and a vintage haberdasher's hat mold as the base. A pair of hand carved puppet hands, ratcheted spool gears and various wood forms embellish the piece which was then finished with air brushed acrylics.