I got shy about posting the poem
I worked on for tonight
so here I am.
The coffee house has closed.
I'm sitting on a low concrete wall
bordering a garden of fragrant herbs,
still snagging a few minutes more of wireless.
Cars are tooling past,
people walking by.
Venus is a spark of white light
suspended between a couple of power lines.
The fellow across the way
has finished sweeping the sidewalk
and walks away with his broom and dust pan.
A car parked at the curb
blinks its lights.
Venus has ducked now beneath the bottom line,
soon to set,
and growing brighter as the light of dusk fades.
The voices of two guys and a gal
rise and fall across the street.
It's a beautiful night.