Evening Song

I love a string of 
Garden lights in summer,
Their winking bulbs round as 
A firefly’s bottom.
I imagine the whole of night
Gathering for the party—
The fat raccoons rolling out of trees
In readiness,
The bats swooping playfully
Over the marsh, 
While the old owl hoots and hollers
His constant invitation. 
Here there is no small talk,
Or the milk-glass-cold of strangers,
Only the cricket’s evening song
Giving thanks 
For the velvet,
Starless sky.

Photo by laura adai on Unsplash