Evening

We listened to Aretha's story Sacred, bittersweet and certainly tear stained Like a church window You and I Desperate for rest And the get up and go that I know we'll both spoon into for breakfast In the near dark I smell honeysuckle reaching through the front screen door I catch lightening bugs practicing their last Do-Si-Dos of summer I breathe in my night cap My kiss on the forehead And watch our farm Shimmy into the night For now There is grace This grace we call home