Appearing quietly, there by the door,
All unannounced, with sharpness of eye,
Approving and watching the dancers fly,
The little saint will be with us once more.
Journey alone, walk slowly with pain,
To be with the dancers, active and gay,
Convinced that the dance is the wholesomest way
To share fellowship with the folk once again.
Seldom an elf more discreetly could move
From one place to the next—see the dance, how it flows!
With vision, they’re all a great movement, he knows;
By a small saint they’re nourished with great special love.
From Dillard to Granby and all in between
The people in fellowship gather’d and danced,
Few ever aware how much life is enhanced
By a small saint who softly appeared at the scene…
…to help the young dancers, so gifted and fine,
To lift up their wings, their talents sail high,
With generous gifts so the gifted can fly,
How many he’s helped only saints can divine.
Unassuming and modest, he adds to the lore;
In the dance’s warm spirit we know that he’s there,
Regardless of when and no matter where,
He’s watching, approving, there by the door.
1986; In grateful tribute to Russ Acton,
benefactor of folk dancing in the USA.
How very many times he quietly appeared at our door