The Dance of the Tahoe Warriors
By Dianne Reeves Angel
June 2, 2026
On topaz shores of our Lake in the Sky,
They arrive with arms raised high.
Warm embraces, sunlit skin,
Laughter rising from deep within.
Dancing at the water’s edge,
Our prima ballerina treads.
Karina, spirit of lake and sky,
Unmoved as mountain winds rush by.
We watch in grateful, hushed suspense
As she begins our sacred dance.
Her open arms extend again
To welcome Tahoe’s wandering kin.
Lily of the Playa, wild and bright,
Appears like a Gypsy queen at night.
Moonlight catches coins that gleam
Upon her dress in silver streams.
Kohl-lined eyes reveal the tigress drawn,
Secrets smoldering long till dawn.
Festive Carolina, queen of fire,
Lifts our humble costumes higher.
With feathers bright and strands of light,
She transforms us for the night.
Her artist’s eye, both keen and rare,
Finds hidden magic everywhere.
I find my peace, my altar place,
When Linda moves with quiet grace.
Though sorrow once had called her name,
She met its fire and still remained.
A gentle smile, a steady light,
A soul that comforts through the night.
In every step, in every glance,
She teaches us grace in her dance.
Sprightly Jannie, elfin soul,
Moves to rhythms deep and whole.
Radiant heart and fearless leaps
Ancient wisdom she softly keeps.
Traveler, not tourist, of distant lands,
She brings home gifts shaped by human hands.
Stories, songs, and cultures richly spun,
Lessons gathered beneath foreign suns.
Yet through each journey, far and wide,
She returns to the dance by our side.
Lady Jane, serene as prayer,
Moves with moonlight in her hair.
Though sorrow waits beyond the shore,
She does not bow beneath its force.
For in the dance she lays aside
The grief and burdens locked inside.
And from her strength, both fierce and worn,
A quiet radiance is reborn.
Golden Benita, sharp and bright,
Still glowing in the firelight.
Though sorrow once had claimed your hand,
Love found its way to you again.
And when he looks at you, we see
What tenderness was meant to be.
Twice touched by love, both true and rare,
You wear its radiance everywhere.
Deborah, herald of summer’s return,
For her warm hearth and lanterns burn.
From silent desert sands she comes
To laughter, music, beating drums.
At Dew Drop Inn she lights the night,
With flowing wine and lantern light.
Tea for comfort, feasts prepared with care,
And always one more chair to spare.
Wise and witty, generous still,
She gathers friends with joyful skill.
Beneath Tahoe’s brief golden glow,
Her table becomes the place we go.
Lovely Lindy joins the line
With laughter bright as summer wine.
Though grief once stole her golden boy,
Still she chooses light and joy.
Her radiant spirit, brave and clear,
Draws all who love her ever near.
She shimmies, she sings, she lifts the air,
And leaves her kindness everywhere.
O sisters dear, we dance, we pray—
In moonlight, storm, or break of day.
In a whirl of light we spin,
Our joy a hymn upon the wind.
Though years may pass and seasons roam,
Still this wild shore remains our own.
Beneath Tahoe’s silver-blue dome,
We dance despite our battle scars.
And leave our footprints beneath the stars.
…