A couple are out walking on a summer night.
They’re headed toward the river.
Not a half-hour before,
they were in the house
and arguing loudly.
Now, they hold hands,
stroll at a gentle pace,
can already feel
the cool of the breeze
skimming the stream’s surface,
a refreshing balm
that numbs the sweat,
retrenches the nerves,
nudges the blood along just enough.
It’s not as if they’ve forgotten
what the quarrel was about.
Differing opinions are foremost in their thoughts.
The hurt has not subsided,
merely translated into movement
and an appreciation for the lilting touch
of water on the banks.
A bitter disagreement is out walking on a summer night.
Because of love,
it has made it as far as the river.
