-This poem reflects on the quiet contrast between the natural rhythms of a summer night and the solitary glow of a screen inside the house, inviting reflection on presence, memory, and attention.
The rooms have given up the day,
their windows turned to quiet glass,
while only one small square of light,
keeps watch against the summer dark.
Outside the crickets stitch the night,
the porch still holds its fading warmth,
and somewhere past the sleeping yard,
a late breeze wanders through the trees.
Within that gentle blue white glow,
a face leans close, a page unfolds,
old stories meeting newer ones,
where silence gathers into thought.
So much of high summer lives here,
between the living world and us,
one foot in darkness, one in light,
the evening asking what we keep.