Firelight springs up, throwing
itself along the walls of the tent
in a wild, temperamental dance,
crackling and hissing strange
incantations to the golden moon
set in its billowy couch
overhead. Cool, leaf rustling
winds play an airy tune with
an enticing, chilling mouth.
Soft caressing wafts that
leave no marks.
Rivered fingers slap out a peaceful
rhythm on the banks. And the "voyeur sky"
calls down an earthly calm
with sceptered grace upon his
ceremonious evening. The Sun
Warrior waits his turn to blow his
hot breath in my face, and a thundered
voice calls from a distant
corner, "know it is me,
know it is always me."
The wood nymphs creep out
one by one to set their leafy crown
upon my head, kiss my sacrificial
nakedness and join the fire in it's
frenzy. Drinking from each other's
mouths and body wine to slake
their thirst. Offering up our fertility
with writhing, swaying, undulations
and the dancing went on all night.

Shannon Michele Johnston
Copyright 2000