New parents with
six-week-old baby in tow,
we trudge through
snow to the harvest ball.
Exhaustion from baby
nursing nights
and intense school
days
melts under music.
We jive and spin to
the
rich brass call of
Sing, Sing, Sing.
I
float in his arms as we
trace
the steps of Strauss’ Vienna Waltz.
We laugh our way
through fast songs.
He has natural
rhythm and style.
I follow in
stumbling imitation.
Walk like an
Egyptian and
Cotton Eye Joe
I lay my head on his
shoulder
to the gentle
swaying of Lady in Red.
Our baby watches
from her car seat,
then begs to join.
We dance, her
nestled between us,
until she falls
asleep.
A limbo line starts.
I try my luck and
startle to find that
pregnancy limbered
my joints.
I skim under the
stick at waist height.
He cheers me on.
We return to our
dancing.
Two become one in
music and movement.
Hours later we
return home,
the dance making our
steps light over snow
and our hearts ready
for the coming struggles.
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