wing of night

When we make a flower of the moon
and dance upon her streaming hair
to a rhythm of night song
we feel the closeness of living air

Losing self and  busy day's care
at home beneath a longing gaze
we pause... touching as lover's may
 words and breath billow the embers
of warm lips and fire in fingertips;
we touch and bend darkness to a wish--
to be, to stay just this way,
far from dusk and dawn,
beneath the wing of night.

We share the delicate ways
love lingers as if the sweetest scent
on the hand that gifts a rose