Tyrolean Wedding

In the summertime, when the
white is gone, the green
disorientates the late
snowbird. A guest
duly invited, still
an out of season
visitor like a
swallow in winter.

Squirming during the
ceremony; a long time
to look at the white dress
under the onion dome;
a long time to say
I do.

Tentage and temporary
dance floorboards
higher up the mountain.
Tyrolers, not Germans
-dear me no- marching
the waltz to an
accordion danceband.

Old faces and their
younger versions on
sons and daughters.
And this wedding,
this one, really will
be the last - unless
you’re happy as
a ghost-guest next
to the grandmother
of the bride.