now finally in these november days

life begins to shed some of its grimness

and music falls down the misty sky

in ancient hypodorian, o come o come...

it is your tenderness filling my heart that pulls me on, 
and nothing less than the fullness of joy beyond sustains me.

whose feet are these

slipsliding in the ocean of all that is,

what catches up the breath

in the flow of everyday things,

lurching the heart to fear?

so close is love to fear 

and no seam to follow one way or the other...
only a slight lean on the spirit to guide the craft.

this was a hard risk many days, for both of us,

a leap out of the boat for no apparent reason,
other than for love.

of such is the curve of this kind of grace 

precious as foam
on the long wave homing to shore.