There’s an ache in the long summer night,
a wish for time to slow or stop here,
still air close against our skin.
Insect song pulses through the quiet.
We breathe to its rhythm,
chests rising and falling, tiny
gestures under a vast sky.
The grass is a living,
breathing carpet below us,
the stars, a promise that we are
part of something bigger,
though we can’t grasp what.
Your thoughts fill up the air
around me like electricity.
To simply exist beside you
is my nightly devotional.