poetry

The pure joy, love and laughter of gay weddings

Poet and artist Frieda Hughes is a welcome wedding guest and finds herself overcome with effervescent excitement...

Friday 02 August 2024 13:38 BST
Our hosts were grooms, / And we, their wedding party
Our hosts were grooms, / And we, their wedding party (Getty Images/iStockphoto)

THE WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT

Star-clustered heads of white hydrangeas festooned the carpark edges,

Unburdening their confetti as if they knew something.

We gathered beneath the unexpected single day of July sun

In floral-not-formal attire, except me, the flowerless one,

In black among the lightweight linens, mourning a sodden summer.

It was the end of another moist month, with canapes so good

I forgot the buffet lunch to come, and ate my weight

In Scotch quails’ eggs until I grew feathers.

I found my inability to small talk was gratefully disguised

By the effervescence of others, and my delight

As they carried the canopy of verbal engagement

With their glasses of champagne and the sound of the jazz band

Into the vaulted hall with indoor trees and calico tables. The sun

Poured through openings onto those whitewashed Shropshire walls

As if spotlighting the event at which, to our astonishment,

Was the message of yesterday’s marriage. Our hosts were grooms,

And we, their wedding party. Their joy at our surprise

Exploded the room with love, applause and laughter,

Until the chair legs buckled and everything daily thereafter,

At least for a week, was of little significance.

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