Summer Nights

Wine tinkered nights
fall prey to
the swayings of the moon.

There is a hiccup
and teacup giggling
as a foot darts
in a compulsive path,
a circle dance
in a sort-of square,
amidst other
wanton whims.

I see what you see -

I sense
the divine
in a salted tide
churning at dawn –

I sense
us whirling
into the wide
whispers, celestial
pawns spinning
in beautiful,
inevitable
deadlock,
partners
in a waltz of
wine
and wind
and wants.

Once upon a time,
a new moon
obscures.

We howl,
and it’s
ours.