A four-post bed, barren beneath the open window, billowing gauze curtains haunting our sacred space. Beckoning.
Outside she waits. Numbed by the darkness, I stumble to her side on the roof. We silently let the infinity of the moonlit silence wash over us completely. Eyeing heavenward, I can see only darkness.
Her hand on my cheek, I turn to see her face. I stop in wonder, transported. My hand in her hand, her eyes in my eyes, our hearts drink to bursting. Slowly we break and gaze up again, stars newly bright as if by her flame.
We stay the hours, bodies moving as slowly as those above us. As the still-waxing moon grazes the tops of the conifers, we begin to move. Nearly as silent as the encircling shrouds we give ourselves and take each other, eventually descending in time with the moon. Carefully stepping our way back inside, we feel at our backs the chatter of birds at the false dawn, and the promise of the emerging day, our wedding day.
Last modified on April 29th, 1995
©1995 Kevin Fox, kfox@ocf.berkeley.edu