The mountains whistled yes
The stones sang your praises,
the very mountains smiled,
letting in the dropping sun
and inviting a spread of tangled lights
that scream celestial presence.
Night filled with beauty,
tinged with light even in the absence
of shadow and beams.
At my back the ethereal stone
queens and kings ushering in
the next coronation,
acknowledging a new ruler in me,
a new ruler in you.
Crowning my head,
the very cosmos gathers like fireflies.
And at my feet the network of city lanterns,
like a million boats
in a silent sea, gently rocking
back and forth
from the gentle power
of your question,
the gentle force of my answer.
Three witnesses to hear my oath.
Stolen novel; please report.
Yes.
Always yes.
Parlay
Set the mechanics,
secrets I’ve never gotten away with since.
We both knew it was coming. I had gone spelunking
into the cave inside of me, searching
for writing on the walls, directions or glyphs.
Prayers offered like paper lanterns
into the dark, but they come back down
to earth, brighter but still little
more than floating paper. What do you want to do?
And the answer is obvious as running stoplights,
obvious as piecing together the jigsaw of me and you.
And then it’s all about the mechanics of it.
You planned the perfect setting, a hike into the woods catching fire
with the lure of autumn,
columns of your favorite hues of yellow.
And when fall came early and the hike was set,
I didn’t mind the early spring.
No time to let the grass grow under my feet.
Excitement, balanced by the surreal weight
of asking for a million, trillion years of yes.
More weighty than the car. The job.
The dates and dinners and dreams of a younger me.
More weighty than the degree. None of it commitment
like asking for you to love me for me.
And when I drop to my knees like a sinner
starved for light, your answer beams brighter
than I dared to hope.
Such rolling happiness
beating over me like waves,
drenching me in the realization
that I am marrying
you.