A Perilous Quaker Marriage Proposal

For Rebecca

In the Physic Garden of the Colonial
Pennsylvania Hospital, Philadelphia, 1998

On the day I proposed I first sat in silence
hoping words would rise from the garden paths
or descend as gift from the sycamore trees.
I listened for a leading, or the Spirit’s pruning
to remove the chatter choking my mind—
and then came the whisper of the opening way:
If you marry, you can be happy and raise a family,
words gentle and certain in a voice not my own. 

That evening after supper we walked to my spot
in St. Peter’s churchyard, up a crumbling path,
but I spied two teens sitting hand-in-hand
beneath my favorite plane tree. I had hoped
its trunk would offer me strength
should my own backbone give way.
Thinking quickly, I discovered a new tree,
and after taking our seats, I ventured my question,
then she answered Yes, yes! laughing as she knew
I’d been acting strangely that day. Proposal accepted,
we smiled and held hands and I watched those teens,
those innocent thieves, make their own secret vows
beneath the wide arms of my favorite tree.