We are on the porch tonight
And I am reading Proust
Baseball is on if we wanted it
But the TVs are black and silent
Out here the night creatures call
The fan silently whirls
Cars and trucks identify themselves
And are soon gone
Replaced by a child’s high pitch
or a dog barely audible
This night it is too nice to stay in
Only a few nights in the Fall and Spring
Meet the standard for porch sitting
And Proust reading
If you want to get us, call our cell
We cannot hear in the house
And Proust is on my I-phone
And I am not thinking of other nights
Of slamming drawers and hurried meals
Of late returns from work
Lugging in the computer bag
Unpacking it for the morning's work
This night it is Swann’s Way
The Budding Grove
Cambray
And of course
That little phrase by Venteuil
As played by Odette
The national anthem of
This beautiful darkness
And the thoughts
I am having
Of Times past
People longed for
And porches with Proust
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