There is going to be a wedding in the garden
Mother Earth, the patient bride,
awaiting fickle Sky-groom,
He is dawdling,
arranging his clouds just so,
to look his best.
He can be seen casting glances
at neighboring planets.
The groomsmen look at each other
and shake their heads.
The bride is resplendent
in her grass-green gown,
dotted with magenta rhododendrons.
Her cascading waterfall tresses
roll bountifully down,
and an exaltation of skylarks
cavort about her head and shoulders,
Birds just love a good wedding.
Wild bunnies peep, big-eyed,
from under the floral garlands.
A mama deer and her fawn attend
but at a distance, out in the pasture.
The bride's attendants are covered
with pink and purple blossoms.
The trees stand tall in their tuxedos,
sporting a carnation in every lapel.
From every bough,
a collective of assorted yard birds
warble a clarion call
to the assembled guests~
joy on a summer morning.
Sunflowers and weeping willow
line the aisle with splendor.
Mother Earth approaches,
carrying pink luscious peonies,
smiling a tremulous smile,
faintly tinged with tears.
She is softened and sweet,
with an attitude
of wistful hopefulness
against the inner fear
she does not wish to see:
her groom is changeable,
can burn or freeze her at will.
she is dressed in her best,
lets her heart do the rest.
She steps forth with head held high,
into the moment.
The only time for love,
One from the spring of 2015, my friends, to be shared with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United on Sunday morning. Wishing you all a wonderful sunny weekend!