Anyway, in the back, hand-written, is a poem - for Anne, from Ralph.
The sharp moon-thrusts are pointed at the sea,
But, jealous of its secret heart below,
Unhurt, the sea's dark shield deflects the blow.
The glancing force, too blunt for injury,
Wave-broken, useless, stirs with wind and light,
The restless edge where land and water touch,
But finds it cannot hurt the dead sea much,
And dies a colder failure every night.
But somehow in an off-guard moment, when
The sea forgets to rough its wave defense,
The moon's bright malice makes a difference.
Beneath the cut, the pulse the sea conceals
Is for a moment still, the scar soon heals,
And undisturbed, the sea-things move again.
We both agree its a beautiful piece. If it is original, we thank Ralph, the poet (and Anne, the muse), and gift the poem to the world. Enjoy.
If you stumble in here and recognize the work, drop me a note. Would be interesting to know the poet and the title.....my attempts to find it via google were for naught.