wearing your mantilla,
the low branches of the young mulberry trees
are your church steps
and the breeze is bells for your wedding.
how I long to watch you braid your hair
into feathers for this glorious day.
give your mantilla to a sister or an aunt.
Tonight they all will envy you
as your dainty shoes as small as rosary beads are shed--
you'll go barefoot on the mulberry trees
swaying sweet for a warm moon
like a rung chime.