Notes From a Wedding Under the Trees

(for Nancy)

The leaf lands face up

at the end of the white silk train

of your wedding dress as you walk the path

flanked now by standing guests.

The late green cleaves to the moving silk

like a whispered vow. A chickadee cries.

Suddenly, not the wind but the hand

of a guest sweeps down - sweeps

the leaf away from the bridal white.

The silk sighs. The smiling sun forgives.

* * *

You stop before that waiting wagon wheel:

It stands unstirred for years at the edge of the pond.

Surprised, you see how passing through the hub

young green grows into the light....

* * *

Fond though slight

are the moments made of leaves that gently touch

your changing life.

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