A Wrong Turn

Shirts In An Open Window

You had opened the window

and they were dancing,

my four shirts, lilac,

cream and blue and pink.

Hung on the curtain rail

and damp with dew,

a mischievous,

trouser-less, high-kicking

cabaret that,

in the patter of rain

and rustle of lavender,

Learned the gentle sway

of night's soft-breathed

dance.