Saturday, February 21, 2009

It Froze Again Last Night (And The Wedding March Was Halted One More Time)

Spring is coming in this year like some crazy, clumsy bride
Who has not planned her wedding well at all
The music starts and all the guests stand and turn to gaze
To look into the face of joy and promise
Only to see the bride trip upon the hem of her gown
And tear her lace and retreat again to the back of the church
And everyone sits down with a tiny sigh
(And pulls their coats, their sweaters, their shawls back around their shoulders
Because all of a sudden, there is such a chill)
And patiently waits
Until again, the organist pumps those wheezy bellows
And the sharp clear notes of the wedding march
Sound again, ringing through the room
And again we stand and turn to look
Surely, this time, there will be a bride
And yes, there she is, her lace repaired
The prettiest purple toe of her satin slipper showing beneath
Her gown of green
But wait!
She trips and we all
Hold our breath
(Will she fall?)
And she catches herself but she has scuffed her pretty shoe


She retreats again and we all sit
And the organist goes into some blues thing
(While we turn up the heat and go through the seed catalog one more time)
Meanwhile the birds don't care. They are not discouraged
The woodpecker is knocking himself into dizziness
On the tree outside
And the doves and cardinals and sparrows and wrens
Fight for their rights at the feeder
And the squirrels do death-defying leaps
From bare pecan to bare cherry laurel


And here comes the wedding march again
And oh yes, this time, I can see the pink froth slip
Of the bride, silk and satin beneath her skirt
Come on, honey.
We're all so ready.
We want to take off our wrappings
We want to dance at your wedding
With wild abandon,
Our old, stiff legs twitch in anticipation
Of the steps they'll do
The twirls
They'll take
The groom is waiting
The caterers are having a hard time keeping the crab dip warm
The photographer is standing with his finger on the button
We all want to hear those age-old words
Pour from your lips
Like azalea buds
Like dogwood flowers
Like perfumed air
Warm and true
Sure and sweet and
The dark earth waits
To receive its seed
While the redbud blushes
And the green leaves stay curled and tight
Until you have made up your mind
You fickle girl
You fancy female
You springlike bride
We wait because you are new
Every year
And thus,
You make us new as well
And we yearn
(Oh how we yearn!)
To dance at your wedding.

9 comments:

  1. I am so very ready for the bride.

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  2. Hey there Ms. Moon,

    That was fun! You're right, we are definitely ready for the bride to shake off her cold feet! Harley and I desperately want to go swimming at a friend's house who has the coolest waterfall in her pool and play play play all day!

    That was a beautifully woven post, and it hit just the right note. How can the ole girl refuse nudge like that? :-)
    Keep musing,
    pf

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  3. Please don't ever doubt that you are a superbly talented writer...

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  4. Just Me- Thank-you, dear.

    GingerMagnolia- Aren't we all?

    Petit Fleur- Yes. That sounds like such fun and Harley will love it and sleep well on the nights he plays in the pool.

    Robin- Wow. Thank-you.

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  5. you said it! seed catalogs indeed. i am just dying to start planting, but its just way to freaking cold!! maybe a couple more weeks?

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  6. Lady Lemon- I planted little seedling pots with tomato seeds yesterday. And I'm about to put in some sugar snaps, potatoes, onions, broccoli, and a few more greens.

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  7. That was really just incredible! Seriously really good. Seriously so so good!!!

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  8. Thank you, Quiet Girl. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

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