Dave Bonta's "Ceremony" is only three short lines, and it packs a small scene into them: a baby is being christened, and what we notice is the sound she makes. The word "ceremony" in the title promises something solemn and formal, but the poem gives us "her simple noise and wrangling about." The baby isn't performing any ritual. She is just squirming, fussing and making sounds, as babies do.
That gap between the grand occasion and the small, restless child is where the poem lives. The speaker seems amused and tender rather than critical. Calling her noise "simple" suggests it's honest and unpolished, maybe even more real than the words of the adults around her. "Wrangling" is a funny, slightly scrappy word, as if she's arguing her case against the whole event.
The mood is light, warm and a little playful. The poem doesn't tell us what the speaker believes about the christening itself. It simply lets the living child interrupt the formality, and that feels like the point.