for Romas and Delphine

waves,

water falling against water,

the whispers of dreams in between,

silent footprints rest like

so many stones on the shoreline

granite, basalt, rounded and smoothed

pushing back against the waves

against the water that is their master

scent of fish, scent of lake weeds

driftwood bent, sagging with years

ancient sand, each grain

a minuscular defiance of time

and out toward the dizzy horizon

within the depths of its green blue layers

heavy with the onus and the promise

of its water

the eyes of a peasant reflect back

as those

of a humbled king.