We became vagary like the moon and
Just as mercurial, a momentary flutter

Aside the contortion of our hearts,
Like sprites on the Lake of Summer –

A reflection of us cast the same light as
Projection of time splays towards Now.

Culmination of distance no longer applies
So here, like a resolution of abundance, we are

A launch to become as one, unfinished as
A Dance, rough as quadrille along lost shores,

Just our own digression, like vapor as it rises
Across the morning moor of sunrise, you and I.

© K. James Ribble