Pagosa Springs Artists

A Bridal Shower

The sisters whirl in on a soft spring breeze,

peck my cheek like busy birds, spill their

loads onto the polished dining room tabletop.

The bride enters hididng her thoughts of another.


Granddaughters grin, turn toward the toy closet.

But going right to work, my daughters conspire

in whispery buzzes, pull down the Christmas

wreath, haul out my stashed china, crystal and

monogrammed silver to set upon alace cloth as

the bride makes her choices, ignores her inner voices.


Clambering onto the tabletop, the tallest daughter

tapes crepe streamers above the chandelier while

another scurries outside, raiding magnolia trees for

a centerpiece to match the paper napkins.  Chairs

are pushed into an intimate circle in the cavernous

living room, sisters tugging the bride into our midst,

unaware she is dragging her feet.


A final flury of pulling on pastel skirts and borrowed

silk stockings rreadies three generations of females

preening like Degas' dancers as the doorbell chimes

its announcement our party is beginning.  In the back

of her mind recline the bride's grave misgivings.


first published in The Rockford Review

©2019 Bonnie Manion


Poem of the Month

  • March - 2023
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