A sonnet for the beginning of November

act of instinction


Each time this happens, I profess delight
as you reveal each perfect place and part
that I adore. It is not just their sight –
it is their pith, that you impart your heart
as you expose your loveliness.  My eyes
accept, my thoughts connect, and I react
by proffering what you expect, my prize
obsession, meaningful for both its act
and its propensities.  You recognize
that my overt intention is inspired 
by what you give, and then you authorize
conjoining binding bonding, as required
by needfulness we satiate. So take
my aim and find what we together make.