inside a half-timbered farm house
our guests were gathering,
willing to witness our commitment and plea
for support and grace in the future.
we walked in
to an old swing tune.
the civil ceremony that followed
was the closest to a sermonette
— eloquent and spirited —
we’d ever heard from a registrar of marriages.
our exchange of simple, golden rings,
our self-written vows
and that sweet and earnest kiss
put us on our way
as husband and wife,