something about the summer air
at 2 a.m.
just after it has rained

i can hear the earth drying
and the flowers going to sleep
or are they waking up?
it is a special kind of quiet
except for the crickets
and cicadas
and the laughter of friends
and couples
(like you and me)
walking home from the bar

the stars and the streetlights are irrelevant
because of the moon
that is painted in one million places -
held by drops of dew
resting on the cars in the lots

i feel the moons
tenderly leave their resting place
to join the fabric on the back of my shirt
i think your hands probably hold
some of them, too

and in this moment
i am thankful to share
my summer air
with you