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I saw poetry in action, full color – right out in the open parking lot. A white older model car pulls up and parks crooked between the spaces. A bent old man emerges, wild white hair blowing, a hump on his right shoulder and glasses. He shuffle-walks to the back of the car, inserts his key and opens the trunk. Before I could move, he is wresting a wheelchair out of the car. It lands with thud on the pavement and he is already moving to the passenger side of the car. He opens the door and bends inside the car – what is he doing? He unlocks her seatbelt, turns her body to face him, places her legs on the pavement, swings her arms over his neck, lifts, twist and somehow gets her in the wheelchair. She smiles at him, big red eyes, more wide hair – then it hits me, I had just witnessed a love dance between two old lovers. Many years they have danced -- knowing each other’s moves, anticipating the dip and run, the smile that conveys understanding . . . but now the moves are stiff, slow, awkward but the joy of the togetherness is strong and vibrate. He is taking care of her “in sickness or in health” and she is thanking him with smiling eyes – the dance continues. Here is my attempt to capture this lover’s dance with a tanka . . . all the best.