Quivering, swirling, tapping

Festal pyrotechnics
cotton dress swirling
his foot tapping
boy on guitar girl on violin
busking to intensely alive
international appreciation
just before midnight
still thirty degrees
but it’s their warmth and
ease everybody’s
noticed and slowed to
semi-circle standing for
shyly humming along
to the tune

A mildly drunk admirer
steps a touch too close but
feeling the little crowd’s
protective bristle sobering
swiftly allowing neck hairs
to settle only to rise
again in happier response
to now plaintive now playful
violin voice quivering
ducking and diving
laughing and thriving
delightfully playing
wide eyed celebration
beneath the full moon