Shimmering Dancers: A Poem in Honor of the Lovely Linguists in Leon's English Department

Shimmering Dancers

No Fish Out of Water

The loveliest school of linguists I ever did see,

Undulating, pulsating, pure poetry!

Speaking the language of Sirens, so fluid and lithe, 

Like sea-blooming selkies, on shore come alive.

No prim proper school marms, these novel women,

Each sings her own story; each spins her own rhythm.

A round dance of nereids, all rolling and surging,

Shape shifting women, like mermaids emerging.

And nothing but vowels from the boys in the back,

The men hover round, a clumsy land pack.

Like an Irish school dance, the girls’ hub is charged,

Stiff boys on the spokes dare an occasional barge,

Into the circle of waving arms, shaking tails,  

Silkies who have hid their own coats by the sails.

Some rock and some stay, most head back to the sea.

Leaving men land-locked with dreams of the sea.

Leaving them tongue-tied with tales of the sea.

Undulating, salty, and pure poetry,

The loveliest school of linguists I ever did see.

Written in Honor of the Goddess of the Sea Foam and

The Ladies of the Leon English Department who betook to their legs dancing at the end-of-the-year faculty party—May, 2012.