The heat of promise

I sat outside tonight, long after the sun was abed.
Air humid and heavy
Pregnant with the promise of rain.
Mother Moon far above my head, growing fat in her fecundicy.
The pavement still warm from Father Sun’s bright, daytime glare.
Somewhere in the dark, teenagers played.
Giddy girl laughter,
the hesitant response of the boys.
I smiled in the darkness, remembering.
Summer nights like these,
they boil the blood, raise the pulse.
Yes, I remember my own wildness.
Moving from maiden to mother,
and heading on the slope towards crone now;
I am still stirred by the summer moonlight
the magic of the night
that carries in it always
the heat of promise.