"Where she held us like a breeze holds a windchime"

My mom's good friend Cindy is a great poet and wrote this about our wedding. I love it.

After the Wedding, That's When

the light dropped in, and not the one
that makes you wish you never
had a tongue.
This light was barefoot,

like a girl you don't see enough.
Her shiny arms
pulled us up from tables,
out of chairs. As soon as her hair

shook loose, so did the band.
Maggie, eighty seven, skittered all
over on little spiked
bright feet, like anyone, as the floor

hummed, as children stomped,
and what in the world
was time, anyway.
We shimmied, we spun. We sparkled,

even, which may have been sweat.
The moon like a white
boat somewhere
outside was sailing by

or crashing on a star, we didn't know.
We had light enough in the high-
walled room
in the tall old house

where she held us like
a breeze holds a windchime
while we danced,
the way we all dance down the years,

holding one another up. Just a hand,
sometimes, placed
at the small of the back.
And the light, ever a party girl,

stayed. She stayed the whole night.

-Cindy Beebe