Anagram: Epithalamion
Cymbidiums in tidy nests of peat;
a Genoise in stacks, nasturtiums atop;
men and maids upholstered in muted teal.
One mother stifles her lament.
The other pours another bourbon over mint.
One father sprang for a phaeton.
The other does not give one iota.
The bride gives her mouth a coppery patina,
her nails get a fourth coat of paint;
dons a temporary halo.
The groom, slightly more man than animal,
thinks all this makes less sense than Latin,
would rather be installing laminate.
The oak under which they all met,
roots bursting, ants working at the pith,
deep in its heavy branches goes to peat;
soon put to the lathe,
will smoke like paper, shine like metal.