watching her sing

If fireworks could smile at night as they light up the sky,
and if a child in a shopping mall could smile like that
upon finding and thereby saving her lost mummy; and
if you could see her smile of rescue, you have an inkling
how transporting is this singer’s joy, how she lends delight
to the bouquet of notes and harmonies, flinging them
into the air to become rainbows of crystal clear sound.
Her voice, that smile, changed that plain two-dimensional
woman: she became the animator of the room, its whole
purpose for being a room; it has become the setting for
this eruption from chrysalis, this joyous birth, this epiphany.