Love Finds Little Latitude

Precise in pitch and attitude,
It must turn perfectly
To miss the sharp-edged coral beds
Garlanding its girth.

The wind still blows, the waves still roll
Out where the water's deep,
But here within, a tidal peace
Reverses with the moon.

Here is the elusive goal,
Too permanent to keep,
That sits in small print on the lease
Of those who dock at noon.