If Not for the Want of a Party

for Dave and Kate because I love you

In Italy, in a low-valleyed vineyard
Colleen Dewhurst’s laughter floats
on scents of bay laurel and candle wax.
I’m sitting at her table with Len, and Kate
who keeps vying for Thich Nhat Hanh’s time.
(She heard he likes Vienna Teng.)

My great grandmother smiles with
30 year old eyes full of stories
to waft through the air while my
children replenish her wine, and
fill her spirit with their own.

The Dalai Lama’s saffron robes contrast
the wild bougainvillea, where laughter
bubbles forth to evoke Montana mountain streams.
A seated circle of children surrounds him in the grass.
The group glows.

Holding hands and smiling David and Katie
tangle through the expansive vineyard’s maze.
Punctuating tales of grapes with frequent laughter,
love permeates each step taken.

John Kohler rides in on the gloaming.
He ruffles Kate’s hair, and they
play. Her fingers tickle ivory,
his caress a shining sax,
the fingers of others
dab at corners—at
tears that enter their eyes.

If not for the want of a party,
if not for the prompt of a want,
this party would be vapor.
Instead David’s piano appears
applying pressure to his fingertips
the keys descend, Kate’s voice rises
and moments turn into
wants that can only imagine
things that never will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The prompt at We Write Poems this week is to "say what you want." I want a party in Italy. Some of the guests have passed on to other places, and live now in hearts, memories, music, tears, and laughter. It felt good to gather them together for this party in Italy.