Hither and Yon

by Brett Rutherford

There is one who loves me,

     three towns hither,
and there is one I love,
     just three towns yon.

Yet over all of us one hand

has painted the same starry vault
that rotates just the same;

the trees have turned the same

resplendent gold,
     but the veined and crispèd leaves
     are not the same here
     as they are hither and yon.
The same moon goes new to gibbous
    here, and then full to gibbous again
     until there is no moon above us,

dark here, dark hither, dark yon.

Not one of us can reach out to touch
from our closed rooms the same dawn.

We will shiver a common winter.
We will sleep singly, or not at all,
wasting with pent-up longing.

In sad fact, not one of us
shall ever see the other again.

1973, rev. 2019