A river meanders
Sluggishly through
A leaf-barren glade,
With the moon playing
Hide and seek
Behind threatening, thickening
Clouds
That seem to portend
An oncoming tempest
Much larger than
A teacup.
From behind and between
The gnarled trunks of
Ancient oaks
Standing sentinel and still
Along both banks,
Two ephemeral figures appear,
Glowing,
Indistinct,
Gliding silently to
The water's edges
To halt just beyond
The constant wet.
Slowly they take form,
One becoming a man
In revolutionary garb,
The other a woman
In Georgian finery.
For an eternity they stare
Across the lethargic waters,
Their yearning and heartbreak
Tangible
In the muddled light.
No sound is heard
Above the night stirrings
Of elusive fauna,
Yet
Their whispers echo forlorn,
The only parts of themselves
That can ever touch.

c. 2021