Under the Maple

When the surrounding hills retreat, and the hamlet goes dead quiet, I see this pair coming on tiptoe. They don’t get to watch me watching them.

Tonight the dark has intensified. Clouds have shut the sky out. The distant clock strikes the hour. Echoes resound in the stony silence. There’s no sign of them yet.

Lately, roads are being blasted out of the mountains. Someday they’ll cast me away. Wonder where they’ll meet then.

Here they’re. I find a hint of mist glistening on her eyelids. They’re locked in an embrace.

A thunder cracks, muffling the sound of a firearm.

First published in f3

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