After dinner, we all sat
outside on the porch
and listened to crickets
stitching their songs through
the glittering sky, so near
it seemed we could slip our heads
into a loop of stars
and wear them as necklaces.
A candle in a glass
carved out a small circle of light
and beyond that, meadows
slept while the woods
rose in dark silhouettes
curved like mountains.
Now and then a passing car,
so muffled it seemed apologetic,
swept the distance away.
We tossed a few words into the night
just to reassure ourselves
we were really there,
luxuriating in a dream
of eternal summer.
