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Moon hangs, almost full
pieces of cloud scatter,
glide in soft, summer breeze.
We lay in our meadow
listening to the sound of night
her head nestled on my arm.

Night air made for kissing
dances upon our skin
chilling wherever is damp.
She stirs, quietly calls,
my name hangs on summer eve
floats about our meadow.

She sighs, moves closer
snuggling in, once again
her breath stirs, awakens.
Hands join in gentle caress
exploration shared and renewed
oh, so smooth and lovely.

We turn, lips meeting
slow, softly, delicate
building quickly to demand.
Crying out, beginning and end
collapsing, breathing ragged
moon hangs, slightly fuller.

by Daniel James Burt