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Notes From a Wedding Under the Trees

(for Nancy)

The leaf lands face up

at the end of the white silk train

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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.

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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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