Nights like this it’s hard to leave
Missouri. Nights when the sun is so smug
in his setting he forgets to scorch and instead
waxes landscapes in champagne lusters,
when humidity is absent-
minded enough to forget her chores and leave
my skin unsweated in a soft breeze,
when ticks and chiggers are busy with other bodies
and bullfrogs’ churn runs rich and smooth
as homemade ice cream and each cricket’s
chirp is cute as baby fireflies learning
to wink their splash of stars for the first time.
when hay bales glisten in shorn fields and dinner steams
beside candles on the porch and my wife’s light
laugh chimes over raccoons frolicking in the dumpster.
Nights like this, it’s hard to leave,