We Tried to Tell Them

Another wedding. The only social pageant
Statistically doomed to repeat itself.
But this one had homemade ice cream,
Was outside under the ivory plum blossoms.

In the field the wethers were going at the ewes,
And the preacher was going on about mystery,
Feeling naked without his big tent.
It was the kind of day that might produce

Rain at any moment, or just as easily make
A brilliant sunset with heart-shaped clouds.
This was the way chosen to light the bouquet,
The sun’s Greek fire setting a pair of swans ablaze.