Aix Sponsa / Bryn Homuth

A myrtle crest stitched
to a yellow cuff dovetails
to a sunrise beak,
the drake’s plumage pressed
and steamed as he flies at first
light behind Dawn’s doors.
I watch them, as would any
Wedding Guest, from the river bank,
groom’s side, I suppose, my pew
a five-gallon pail flipped,
tucked in tall grass. Wind strums
a leaf-harp with the river-aisle
prepared for this betrothed water bird.
They sing their own processional too,
the wood ducks, of wingbeat and whistle,
announcing themselves in flocks
matrimonial. Listen
as they join the chorus of bridegrooms
in churches,
farms, fields,
aboard boats,
along lakeshores, beaches,
choirs in the Bridegroom’s sanctuaries.

Aix Sponsa: Copyright 2021 by Bryn Homuth. All rights reserved.

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