In the days before we closed our windows
I lay at night on sweat-damp sheets
And listened wakeful as the floorboards creaked.
Those nights when moonlight
Came bright through the screens
And made the night sky blue.
I could smell the dark then
The flowers on the vines, the blossoms on the trees
Heavy in the humid haze.
The hypnotic grind of the cicadas, crickets and frogs
The light sweep of midnight truckers
Along the highway, miles away.