Tightrope Walker

As light as a proverbial
feather, he is a will o' the wisp;
here, there, everywhere least
expected, no call required, he
just appears, a small black
ghost of a predecessor still
mourned, possessed of her
grace and fierce independence
yet loving and bright to a 
fault. His bones, like those of
birds, must be hollow for
how else to explain his 
bounding, weightless grace.
He may not take flight
as birds do, but he leaps
lightly with magnificent
aplomb, heights and distances
unimaginable; our very own
tightrope-walker. Moving with
the lithe tempo of a ballerina
his tiny feet outward bound,
he seems to float with an
ease of movement as 
inexplicable as his devotion
to we of clumsy gait.