I NEVER SAW Happy

I never saw happy until

I saw my Grandfather

playing the spoons at a quarter part midnight on Christmas eve.

He was leaning back in his chair his foot tapping to the fiddle, head tilted back and eyes shut. Almost asleep with the drink.

We felt the music build a

wall around him, showing him

some picture.

For no dark could bring peace enough

for such smile of happy,

the smile on his face was splendour driven and not for us.

It seemed to be we

couldn't move to the music.

It was all for him. We stood rigid around the wall, watching

him be shown.

It had to be her

standing within the circle dancing among the notes moving his spoons and still loving him,

showing me happy.

a. maclaren