Dancing

Objectively Speaking

There is a look of knowing

on my yet-to-be walking

granddaughter’s face

as, new to this, she stands alone

in a great big kitchen

small fingers spread,

dancing.

I am left

to wonder at her wisdom

while in this moment my neurons fire,

my pulse quickens,

and these imperfect thoughts

transfer electrochemical impulses

from my brain down to my fingers

to an electronic page,

via a keyboard,

in a vain attempt

to recreate the grace

mirrored on the surface

of her immersion

in the music.