Soup

An ethereal ‘V’ lingers in a stone gray sky,
A sky that betrays daylight to dusk, ever earlier,
As our evenings, compressed by old habits
and new responsibilities,
Fall into routine.
Windows, closed and muffling the songs of our community,
Long to be cast open at the first sign of that last,
lovely, autumn afternoon.
Now the stove is lit, the excess heat embraced,
And a shared soup soothes and warms us to one another.