celebration night

they seat us at the widow's table
Maryams and Talas smiling bright apple-face hellos
handclasps heavy with warm bundled gold
we drink seven-up with lime and wait for the real start time
they said 6:30
so far it is only our hosts, the widows and us

we are served first
chew appreciatively as families file past to the buffet
guests of honour admiring dark curls
elegant dresses, fine suits
the widows gesture - do we like the meal?
delicious! we say (and mean it)

hearing this, our hosts hurry over
offer us their portions - do we want more?
we must decline three times
before they sit to their meal

after supper, ice cream and music
tables pushed back, the whole room dances
except for the widows, who eat sweets and drink strong coffee
clap to the rhythm of the song

a small boy spins in his mother's arms, laughter burbling over
an old man vogues impishly
then turns a perfect somersault across the floor
lands with a flourish - shoes shining, suit coat still buttoned

and so it goes all through the evening
more coffee, more sweets
a quick step out into the chill night air
then back to the party

the widows are up now
twirling sails of lace
jewels flashing
hands linked, they command the dance floor
shaking out joy and peace and abundance
over every person
filling every corner with their crinkly smiles

question: did you ever see such a party?

mompoet - remembering a happy night