For the wedding party
the roses have scattered their crimson petals
and the groom in a white tuxedo stands,
hands in pockets beside his best man.
The bride’s father is the first to appear
at the French Doors that open up
to the garden with the sweeping views
of the green lawn, the pergola
adorned with white roses and the slow moving
brown river beyond
the photographer having shot the flower arrangements
and upstairs, the smalls of various backs now focuses
on the quality of light
When the bride appears
(in a dress she made herself of
silk charmeuse and a veil of silk tulle)
a murmur of approval runs
through the assorted guests
while the bridesmaids pose beside the lavender hedges.
She is a vision!
Exclaims the groom’s mother
but her third husband is considering the river
in which catfish lie in wait.
The groom fixing an eye on his prize
wavers for a moment
under that roof of roses
unable to recall how he got there
before a Minister of Faith.
his bride steps lightly onto the manicured grass
and lifting the hem of her ivory dress
reveals she is barefoot
and he remembers.