her whistle

she would whistle
from the top of the porch
stairs
to bring you in.
dinner's on the table.
exhausted, but not quite
ready, you'd circle once
more the street
the poles and cars
where the games would
start
and end.
now, she'd say louder,
everyone, let's go,
then whistle once more.
dinner's getting cold,
as she held the screen
door to let you,
one by one, file in.