Summer Solstice
In every way, I feel response
To all those things you call "romantic":
Flowers, scents, and fabrics -
Wine with bubbles, walks in moonlight -
And most completely, the rhythmic,
Whispered words of poets. But tonight,
Tonight I give myself to you, to
Half-remembered, longpast passions
This night I need you, priest of the oldest order,
To shove me hard against a monolith,
An upright stone, warm-slick and weathered,
Take me under summer stars. Tonight
We are forgetting there is poetry,
Except the ancient Celtic hymn of joining.
When I feel this stone against my back,
See your face strain the starlight for me,
Because of me, I know I am your goddess,
Your priestess in the sacred circle. Tonight.
~ June 21, 1998