Happy Hour on Mabel's Porch
I see the photo and I am there,
taking the picture of my friends at
happy hour on Mabel’s porch,
Penny smiling, bare feet on railing board,
Mabel holding up her cocktail glass,
Jeannie reading a book, and Sue
just grinning for the camera.
Shorts, bathing suits, coverups,
damp sun-bleached hair order of the day.
I smell coconut sunscreen,
join the chatter and laughter,
discussing who was at the beach,
water temperature, jokes
about the wind blowing sand
into the snacks, the seagull
that snatched a ham sandwich
right from Jeannie’s hand.
The nerve of that sly bird!
Friends and neighbors passing,
walking to and from the beach,
waving, stopping to chat,
sometimes joining the fun,
every day after the beach,
before dinner, with maybe crabs
or fish caught earlier in the day,
served from the kettle or grill
onto paper plates, eaten with gusto.
I’ve moved away, to Nebraska,
nearer to our daughter and family.
Someone else lives in my beloved
Victorian with its own wide porch,
across the street from Mabel’s.
Mabel is gone now, the house
sold, different people there -
louder voices, louder music. No more
Danny Boy, Mabel’s favorite.
Copyright ©
Barbara Peckham
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