Marriage

You are not the country I’d imagined
so I go out and split wood
instead of hairs
celebrate another point of view
in silence
the coming winter
the autumn finale
in the trees
fiery
holy!
the welcome ceremony
of Pale winter–
Back inside
I hear you two
in the little room
play school and talk.
I promise I won’t leave ashes in the fireplace;
it will be clean when the guests arrive.