Dancing

Here's a poem I wrote a few years ago. There's a double meaning to the poem--see if you can figure it out. I'll tell you what it is next time I post.

Dancing

When the trees all are bare,
And the winter of the world is dun
And there is a grey chill in the grey air
And the earth is hard and stone,

Then come to the woods that will never die,
To the space deep in the heart,
Warm below the grey chill sky--
That ever enchanted elven glade.

There we see the elven people, people of the light;
Tall they are and kind and fair,
They brighten the dark night--
Their flying feet across the moss and flying shining hair.

Then watch them flitting to and fro;
Dancing in the graceful glade
Until the air comes all a-glow
And fills with the light of their robes and their hair.

Steal softly, steal away,
Back into the dun winter world.
And though the air and sky are grey,
Your heart is in the elven glade.