celtic beats recoil
like beams of sunlight
reflecting off flower petals
and me with grandson
in my arms
bouncing
and walking
and dancing
far away from the stage
along the beer tent fence
his cries insistent
irrational
mingle the music
a very real juxtaposition
only my muted jigging quiets him
as I speak soft words of assurance
it’s ok it’s ok
and strangers’ eyes beam light
as they walk by
for they know the jigging
joy
and privilege
of consoling a tired child
it’s ok it’s ok
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