When he wasn’t thundering.

And he only thundered in performance.

If he wasn’t smiling, then,

Or performing,

He listened.

He waited.

He heard.

Then he pounced.

That finely turned phrase –

That knowing glint –

And –

Then –

The smile.

A smile for his own cleverness.

A smile, sometimes, to draw the sting.

A smile for, he hoped, a shared revelation.

A smile because a smile is almost always the right thing to do.

And, because, 

He liked to smile.