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.