A week ago, they had a conversation,
a second, and a third.
Now they will be married, the eldest son
not yet nineteen and the girl from down the street,
almost miraculous, clearly meant to be,
the contrivings of the matchmaker merely incidental.
She is in a clutch of young women, all giggle and gossip.
He beams, sparse adolescent beard
suddenly luxuriant, receives hearty male good wishes.
What will that first embrace be like?
It can’t be found wanting, for there will be
no others to compare.
Will they never long for a different touch,
or is this contentment’s way?
The kitchen is filling with gifts and sweets.
Strangers congratulate each other, this coupling somehow
an achievement all can claim,
this world of certainty closing in on itself.
