A barnyard dance?
Most likely while everyone else is doing their thing, I’m the one at the well wishing for the nerve to do mine.
I’m not one to do-se-do across the barn floor.
Nor am I one to strut my stuff all over the barnyard.
I’d rather watch, listen, and take it all in.
I adore the look of weathered, splintered barns.
Throw in some red, and I’m smitten.
I don’t need a weather vane to tell me when and from which direction my winds are blowing.
From gentle breeze to gale force, my heart measures all.
Though I wasn’t born to be the dancer, maybe being the music is just as good.