The Dancer

She stands straight, at attention,
Head up, shoulders back, butt tucked in.
Her head moves neither left nor right,
Staring at all that surrounds her.
And the music starts,
Faint, barely hinted at.
Yet not a muscle twitches.
And the music swells, 
Rising,
Surging back, like the tide,
Readying to rush against the shore.
And still she stands, 
Unmoving.
And the music gathers strength,
Building its forces, 
Forming its orchestra to rush forth.
Not a hair stirs, nor breath issues from her.
And with a symphony of synergy, the music charges in.
And she flashes, her body lashing out.
Battling the music,
Her movements are a blur,
A beautiful counter to the music's advances.
And she dances.