An Abundance Of Mist

 

if I remember rightly,
the spray undid my curls,
the fountain mocking us

for making it star in
our autumn wedding, for
snuggling up too close.

my dear papa hid behind
the lens, the camera
his crutch, desperate to

focus on the smiles, to
have a task away from
mama’s tear-swollen face.

now we’re back after all
this time, our own baby
happily immortalized in

the same spot, believing
our years of good luck
came from that fountain.

as my sweet man captures
the embrace, I watch from
a distance, finding myself

no longer immune to tears,
hoping with all my heart
for an abundance of mist.



© Copyright, 2007. Seamus Kearney. Poem and photograph.