The cool air lifts the top of the hot day off
so all who breathe breathe deep
and joyous, the open window, and the crisp
baby night, shadows in small yards,
this starts a deep love for my small town
birth, my small town sound when I play
and sing. It is the start of love for home,
a small gathering of friends gathering
at the edge of pickup trucks, small muddy
cars. Great journeys on plain roads
begin on nights that hang this breadth
of air, this breath, this me, this oh my,
to hold hands, to warmly kiss, to sing broadly
for nightmusk, the steady work of being alive.
