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