She has just passed full bloom.

A dark shadow attempts encroachment

On her beauty's outermost edge.

Valiantly, she fights off this attempted sign of aging.

Tonight, she is a Wild Moon,

And tonight, the wilderness will be her love.

She allows the embrace

Of the pine, aspen, and the birch during the early hours�

But late, she withdraws from their touch,

Rising above the aspen leaves and pine boughs,

Kissing each gently goodbye with her light.

She caresses the birch�s skin fondly,

Leaving it aglow.

They reach out,

Branches longing to hold her

Within their embrace once again�.

But it is not to be.

Her wild song spreads silently over the wilderness,

And the haunting tremelo of a loon

Attempts to accent her soliloquy.

Tonight, she calls to the wild,

And all that is wild hears her.

No breeze whispers,

No water ripples,

No leaf shudders in her presence.

Nothing mars her wild beauty tonight�

Not even a wispy cloud dares brush across her face.