Sailing in Circles

For the most part I am happy in my solitude.
But sometimes I need the force of her countervailing winds
to make sense of it all.

Not lost for words,
I can always fill the silence,
but not always find the way
to match the tilt of the sails
to an impending dilemma.

She would call my name
in one of the many ways she had
to suit the occasion,

take the tiller in her hand,
and steer with the sureness of her convictions,

then hand it back to me,
conundrum now undone,

to tie up to the dock
and, hand held in mine,
step onto the shore.