Charleston Wedding Pastor

There were no bridesmaids.
There was no photographer;
Just the bride and groom
and the Charleston Wedding Pastor.
Three figures standing,
facing each other
In the white-columned gazebo
by Charleston Harbor
at historic Battery Park.

There were a retired couple,
who both had lost their mates.
Now dressed to the hilt, they had
walked from the marriage license office
down Meeting Street,
with mansions on either side,
a kind-of honor guard,
stately saluting them.

It was to be a brief service,
but not this brief.
Three minutes into it, the quite
senatorial-looking groom
abruptly asked, “Can I kiss
the bride now?”
She was lovely in her fashionable
dress and heels,
but he had to wait, poor guy,
through the readings, prayers, and vows.
By then, two little girls, straying
from their mother, had come up the
gazebo steps wanting to be in
the wedding, ready for the kiss.

It turned out to be a happen-chance
wedding party. The girls, on vacation
from Texas, were so happy to be included
they got the giggles.

And then their mom appeared and
offered to take pictures. Ah, this wedding
turned out to have everything:
a photographer,
a preacher with maybe too many words
of God, bridesmaids twittering and
chirping like just-landed songbirds,
a bride with a smile to light the seas,
a ready and yearning groom,
and lots of ancient oak trees
arching and bending to get a better look.