The hall behind us filled up with music,
laughter, the stomp and tap
of dancing feet.

We stood outside, as high desert 
air rapidly shed the day’s heat.
We had been promised a miracle.

Like the crowds at Lourdes, we teetered
between hope and fear of disappointment. 
We clustered around a bud-covered shrub

eyes fixed, not quite praying.  Then,
a gasp and oohs of awe as green sepals
withdrew one by one, revealed

a bud that burst open like
Fourth of July fireworks. Moonlight 
Lit up a flower that shone

yellow as noon-day sun. It happened again 
and again and again. Evening primrose 
released wave after wave of sweetness.