A yellow porch light
Dotted with
The past lives of
Insects
Casts a weak
Weathered haze
Onto a green
Screen door
Where voices
Whisper out
Into the openness
Of cool air.
Inside lights
Speak shadows onto
Walls
As plates retired
From dinner
Swim with silverware
In the sink.
A rocking chair
Meters out
The end of day
As fireflies
Blink in silence
Goodnight.
Roger Singer 