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
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