18. Sangria & Dancing in the Streets
- cherylmurfin
- Jan 12, 2019
- 2 min read
Updated: Jan 24, 2019

Sangria
Oh Sangria
You red-lipped beauty
Bursting with orange and spice
And lemon and something else
I don't recognize.
You fill my cheeks with a ruddy, happy blush
And give the street a squinty luminous glow.
What is that in you?
A little wine? Some ice?
Orange rings? Vermouth?
What's that? More wine?
Seltzer?
And then what?
What is that bottle she pulls from behind the counter
And slyly slips into the mix?
It must be the Blessed Sacrament.
It must be.
Because you taste sweet
And feel holy on my throat
And after just two glasses
You make me speak in tongues!
~ Cheryl Murfin, in Burgos on the Camino de Santiago
Dancing with Joe

A Sunday in October we take a rest
To find the streets and passages are bustling
With slow old men in tweedy coats
And twittering old women in bulky sweaters
Filling in the gaps in front of them
The path is strewn with kids on scooters
Love-struck teens kissing under leafless trees
Two mothers rolling strollers side by side
Somewhere in the middle of it all
A jazzy, swing tune filters through the air
Pulling all eyes and ears in its direction
And toward a flurry of young swing dancers
Jitterbugging through the passage
Smiling, swaying, kicking up their skirts
A winking young woman pulls an old man to his feet
He, in turn, pulls in his belly, leans his ear to the tune,
Then sure-footed as Gene Kelley swings her round the park.
I watch all this from my own bench
With the distance of a foreigner
Itching to join but afraid to look foolish
Returning instead to my book
The title of which I have no recollection
Letting the moment go on without me
But the moment has other plans
He taps me on the shoulder,
Ropes my aching waste with one arm
Slips his palm in mine
Guides me beyond my own clumsy steps
And reminds me why I love him
~ Cheryl Murfijn, in Burgos on the Camino de Santiago
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