Sunlight Dancers

I remember the first time
I saw dust dancing.
Beams of sunlight were pouring
through Saturday morning windows
of the old green tabernacle.
I was at drama club
but didn’t want to sing,
or do The Lambeth Walk
with the others in flat caps
thumbs in braces -
smiles aching limply,
with adults barking instructions
and sweeping clipboards.
I wanted to be watching
those tiny sunlight dancers
do their thing in the spotlight,
float freely
without correction or direction.
Oblivious of audience.
I wanted to dance with them.