# Lost in the dance



## hanoverian12 (Feb 10, 2011)

_One step. Two step. Now cross._ His slender white legs twist to fit the movement. Crossed in front, steady in the back. _One step._ A foreleg rises suddenly and pauses mid-step. _Two step._ The other rises while the first falls. His movements are quick, solid, frozen; beautiful. _Now cross. _Yet again the forelimbs cross; displaying their perfection and flexibility. _One step. _The routine starts again. _Two step._ His head barely moves. _Now cross. _The hair along his neck sways like water; shimmering. _One step._ He knows this dance perfectly._ Two step._ It’s become him and he breathes it.
_Now pause._
All four feet placed firmly on the ground, he waits for the next command. _Hind cross._ His hind leg snakes under his belly, settling on the other side. _Now pause._ The other hind returns to its correct place. _Hind cross._ The same maneuver is repeated; again and again, until he has turned ninety degrees.
_Now pause._
The dance continues. Step by slender step. He follows the lead of his partner, the cues running clearly through his mind. He anticipates, but knows his timing. Every movement is perfect; placed with skill and precision. His silky tail brushes the ground as he moves and wheels about. Fast and yet slow. Swift in the movements. Slow in the delivery. Timing.
_Now pause._
His partner is signaling the end of their dance, the cues are not mistaken. He bends his glorious body to match. Swaying with the rhythm. _Left_. He side-steps. _Right_. Back where he was. _Right again_. The motion is fluid_. Left again_. He glides into place_. Back_. He collects himself for the finale.
_Now up._
His rises up on his hinds, striking with his fores and nodding his head in approval. His mane and tail ripple gently in a slight breeze. He holds the position, waiting for the command to fall. The smell of pine and blooming flowers access his senses. Birds twitter. A river gurgles. The trees sway in the soft wind. He continues his pawing.
_Now down._
With a thud his feet strike the earth. He holds the standing position, awaiting his release. Awaiting those words of praise. Awaiting that touch of pleasure. But the wind is still. The birds grow silent. The sound of the river fades away. His mind is focused on what he cannot have. Hes lost in his own dance.


----------

