Minneapolis, Minnesota

Under the wingspan
of summer evenings,
neighbors rest in families
performing their supper rituals,
and fully dressed trees harbor
crows cawing to each other.

Elms fated for removal
are ringed in orange.
A young couple, oblivious
to warning, comes out
into the patient evening;
only themselves to consider
as the light lingers late.

Soon evenings will collapse
when fall twists
and passes the equinox.
Efforts will turn
toward comfort—
the lamp on the page,
and the moon at the window.

The clock, a windmill
of minutes, pointing
its hands at dusk,
will remind us
summer evenings
are only
a borrowed necklace.