Perfect Tai Chi in the Park

[the stranger]

A stranded vision, buoyant on deep green,
transferring weight from blade to blade
his effortless spirals cricking my neck
following his perfecting form:
Correcting angles, squaring hips
centring the trunk
he’s gone!
Now I’m lost.
He’s blended
transcended
become one
shifted self
eternal, internal
alchemist,
tamed his heart
reached his God
in a park
in a city
on a wet
Wednesday.

[jisbell00]

Hi Stranger,

Nice title, nice poem. My only hesitation: correcting angles. It implies errors corrected, which the poem doesn't seem to be saying.

Cheers,
John

[ton321]

Nice piece, I would start from the "correcting angles" line because that's when the action starts, and for no other reason. Preambles suck, generally

Tony