There was an ever so slight heel to starboard.
The steady and warm gentle wind
Was our silent energy, hardly noticed,
On a beam reach that escorted us for miles
Without the slightest course correction.
The tiller, now limp in my grasp,
Told for this night, my sloop was guiding me.
Now joined with the peaceful pleasure
Of moonlit faces with dreamlike smiles,
I thought for a second of heading her up
Directly into the path of the moon,
But then, you can't embellish perfection...
Feb. 22, 2013