We walked until 1:30 am -- three friends and a dog.

Side by side down the middle of the road we went,
with nothing to light the way but the moon,
and occasional flicker of a flashlight to be sure
the aging lab hadn't wandered too far.

We looked at the stars winking in the massive black sky,
and breathed in the cold, perfumed air that comes
hand in hand with the Summer nights in our tiny town in the woods.

We talked of the things
that only the greatest of friends can speak of
without feeling that the conversation is going too far.
We talked of the things
that only the greatest of friends can speak of
without feeling that the conversation isn't going anywhere at all.

And just like with any other night spent together,
random moments interrupted any sort of poetic stride
we thought we had found in our setting.
Go figure.
But as we know: Anything can happen in the woods.

Walking back against the wind I could feel my breath
run into my face
before rising into the sky.
I could hear the river rushing through it's path
-- never stopping, always rolling --
and the frogs singing their last lullabies.

I said goodnight to my friends and the dog,
thanking the starry Heaven above me
for placing them in my life,

and for placing us here.