It’s a dark — and quiet — night.

The moon waits at the window,

lacking the peeking curiosity of the sun.

The July wind stirs the blinds,

followed by orange street lamps and distant stars.

Your head is on my shoulder, hair tickling my nose.  You sleep.

I listen to the soft stirring of the leaves outside while I hold your hand.

It’s warm here, in the summer —

with you.