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dafremen
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And she said, "Are you hungry?"
He responded, "No, are you?"
"Just a bit", came the reply..a gentle whisper of a suggestion more than anything.
"Then I will catch you a fish for your supper, and we will dine together under the stars, beside the fire..in the light of the Moon, and it will please the Lord if it is pleasant to you."
She took his hand in hers and kissed it. A tear fell from her eye to meet one of his own in the grass below.
And so he took his kit and he rigged it up and he began to angle as his life depended on it, for it did, though he wasn't hungry. He was starving, without a growl to his belly, nor thought of food on his tongue. And so he plied his skills through the late afternoon hours until there were 3 bagged there. Fare enough to feed a princess and a grateful servant-prince. The River's blessings rarely failed to come swiftly downstream.
"I am here, my heart", he called to her, when the distance between them would first allow it. Had he been gone long? Would he go again? "All for you dear queen", he thought, then ran to see her there.
And the fire was lit and the time came to prepare the food..but he'd thought about it and knew his duty too. So he took the fish to a spot away, to prepare it there. To hide from her sight what God would not place before her, an ugliness that might harm the Timeless Child. He would shield her, serve her. This was his call.
"They are ready", he sighed in her ear as they fried..and there were moments I won't here describe. These windswept lovers, behind tall flames and gray smoke met on some other plane.
And the smell of their dinner awoke them, his hand falling from her face..he prepared them.
"Your supper, darling", he bowed.
"Oh, you sweet man", she smiled and cried.
And they fell in each other's arms again for another time, while the cool breeze of nighttime fell softly.
"Is it enough, my love?"
"It always was."
"Then it is pleasant to God and so me."
With great loves, there is a connection that allows mere words to suffice. Rare, but also undeniably nice.
When the fish were ready and the Moon had risen to the stranded heather height of dusk's daydream; the couple (well fed) drank of love between bites of their supper.
The End
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