"A Typical Irish Pub - Fado in Washington DC"
A Guinness at the Irish pub
was born of black, rich earth
and dark thoughts left over
from watching loved ones waste away.
But the Celtic music
came from fragments of sunshine
scattered among shadows,
from laughter splattered with tears
from unmitigated joy curling
like a river around grass so green
as to dazzle the eyes.
The old pub held happiness in light hands,
squeezed sorrows tightly
until tears salted the beer
and still the music played,
drinks flowed with conversation
and nights at the pub became
the froth of memories worn
like a white mustache after an ale.