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Garden Wedding

by Barbara Lydecker Crane

A spell of rain was scattered yesterday —
the sun and breeze now glitter on the grass
where fresh-faced guests encircle her en masse.
Her vision shaped this artful, bright array
of clustered tables, dahlias in bouquets,
her willow stem of satin dress. The groom,
like steady sun, has loved her into bloom.
Their joy will last long past this blessing day.

And yet, just now, I almost cannot stay.
No twinge of envy from this graying mother,
but the shudder that they’ll live so far away.
My daughter’s more like me than any other,
or was. I hold my husk of grief inside.
This rite entwines, and too, it will divide.

Artist and poet Barbara Lydecker Crane of Somerville, MA, has published or forthcoming poems in Light Quarterly, Christian Science Monitor, Measure, The Flea, Lyric, Mezzo Cammin, Snakeskin, Raintown Review, and Blue Unicorn, among others.

Pat Jones
Published 31 May 2011