European ritual
Sometimes
when a late breeze
opens the trees,
I think of summer
evenings in Europe,
how we opened our windows
to let the heat escape.
Everyone would lean
on their windowsills
like portraits of angels
propped up on clouds.
Across the street
we watched each other
watching day's retreat -
the sun swooning down
like a red kite,
houses stepping back
to keep from falling
into shadow.
But eventually,
shadow swallowed everything -
flowers, fences, trees -
even our window,
with us still in it.
