"For us there was a lone violinist. It’s a night I’ll always remember."
                                               New Faces of 1952

"Across what instrument have we been spanned?  And what violinist holds us in his hand?  O sweetest song."
                                               Rilke, "Possibility of Being"

I heard the music first.
The glacial gusts crying to get in.
A question answered;
your strong hand gripped my elbow.

Our shadows silhouetted
against medieval tapestries
waltzed in a tender pas de deux.

For us Boreas was our lone violinist.
It’s a night I’ll always remember.