A van and a coupe

and even a bicycle

parking on the sidestreet

my eyes spinning like a groundless bicycle


I hear the first knock

and open the door

checking my apron

as my rather large foot, stumbles against the door


A smile and hug

and into my hand

a slimline bottle of Trius riesling

I give her a hand


in a matter of minutes

two more arrived

some with bowed offerings

’tis the season, it’s arrived


the last one is late, but only by five

apologetic, but I console

the invite is for five

but I’m not serving till five-forty-five; consoled


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