Summer Longings

The nights fall quickly in November,
the sun running west without a thought
for things we’ve left undone.
6:30 feels like midnight,
and there’s no time left beneath a sun
that fades almost before it comes.

These winter nights are quiet,
the crisp winter air echoing
every sound we try not to make,
and I long for the thick humidity of June,
for the long summer sunset afternoons
when we’ll sit outside and laugh
out loud and slap mosquitoes
and long for cooler weather.