Night passion

Thin clouds scud ragged across a gibbous moon.
Storm and moonlight stir some ancient magic;
Sleeping trees awake to animated life.

Dancing and shuddering to wild
wind rhythms,
an ecstasy of branches
billow in the dark.

I watch this passion ride unbridled through the winter-wizened trees,
faintly jealous of the raw extravagance at work.

When did I ever love with such abandon?
When was I loved with elemental energy like this?

My giving and receiving
filter through self-conscious lenses
till the passion runs diluted
and the colours wash away.

But I still hope
because the high tide of my breath rises with this moon,
the taut drum of my skin sings to the beat of the air's blunt fist
and my rivers of blood pound the red walls of their channels in spate.

Despite of the numbness of a clumsy self awareness
I am still gifted
with a body
that is buzzing
with the spark and fizz
of being.

I too can
wake to animated life
beneath this canopy of scudding cloud
and silver moon.

(c) A McN