Mrs Pickel - Mrs Plum

Mrs. Pickel – Mrs. Plum Bright sunbeams remember puddles On the path Where bumblebees and ladybugs Floated with lazy summer breezes, In a cleft between steep hills of beacons Looking west, Across the tidal strands Of Gooey ducks and butter clams Hidden deep within the sand - Clumps of purple mussels Grabbing onto rough mica rocks - Drained and then refilled each day As moon and tides Played hide and seek – keep away - Following in the footsteps Of laughing school girl giggles, Sisters dressed in ruffles Like dainty Queen Anne’s lace Holding hands to pirouette into the future’s plans When left hands wore new golden bands, Commitment’s covenants, Leaving behind Girlhood’s carefree days, In schoolyard secrets shared, Still talking every morning Across the waters of winter daphne’s growth And fluttering iris bathing in the rain, For new names upon an aging parchment Written in hopes and dreams of maidenhood - Dates that danced upon the calendar’s face – Gone the maiden title “Miss,” Replaced by Mrs. Minnie Pickel and one Mrs. Lena Plum. True story! My grandmother – Minnie Weber Pickel – pronounced “pickle” My great aunt, her sister, Lena Weber Plum