A Lutenist's Refrain

The blackberry tree, hanging some of its branches over her, arbors, shelters and comforts her. The blackberry honeycombs, like little dark blueblack hives of hexagonal shapes, fall around the ground near her feet and on her lap, lapsing down like tears. She sits on a chair underneath the tree. It is not goodbye, this leave of absence he has taken ... it is only a reprieve, an intermittent restraint of silence. The other, her brother, has darkish brown eyes, tender and compassionate, and is of a symbiotic nature akin to hers: loving, lonely, longing to be loved; humane, musical, altruistic and intuitive. He seems, in his talks and communications with her, to be teaching, tutoring and guiding her, telling her to be patient and wait for her softly-sparkling blue-eyed love - as he, her brother, gently plys and plays his lute in chords of harmony.