Late Afternoon, after the Crowds

An outside table in the sheltered courtyard of a town cafe
and three women who do not smoke but brave the chill
of December's sun as the afternoon wanes and reddens
into twilight.

Under parasols still damp from morning rain tiny lights
in cotton boxes flicker on – a kindness from the folks inside
who see the women huddled in the gloaming waiting
for their freshly ordered drinks.

Darjeeling for the one in black coated freckles,
red hair flecked with grey and streaming from cocoons
of purple scarf and hat and gloves she peels from fingers
long and pale.

For one in shades of scarlet grey, the Earl is set aside
with just a hint of sugar and a slice of fresh-cut lime --
fingers fly across her phone and she smiles southern charm
and sudden tears.

Skinny de-caff latte for the third with face so drawn
and etched with stress of work and troubles yet – a smile
of recognition for these other kindred two while above their heads
the moon rises