Wearing only moonglow

and the fire's shawls

of final smoke, she made her way from the tent

at 2:00 A.M., then squatted to pee,

and the heavenly light showed me everything:

its cool tongues of silver lapping mountain

stones and the never-motionless leaves

of aspens, licking her back, her hips,

haunches, and more, illuminating even the deep

green eyes of whatever animal it was

that watched her from the forest then -

a deer, I believed, and still believe,

though I confess I did not rise that night

to make sure, did not shine my light or murmur

but waited until she returned,

letting my head settle slowly back

down to the pillow made of my clothes

and welcomed her shivering

back into the tent, from which

I had sworn I would not look.