Down the hill,
where the sun had seen hundreds gather,
a table with a radio,
two lanterns,
and three shadows remained.  

Up a-ways,
under the few real stars the city had to offer,
the foursome sat at the edge
of the gravel and grass
and listened.

Hearing words millions hoped for,
fraught for, rocked votes for.
And in the pauses remembered
the promise of battles long since started
yet long to be fought.