It's one of those nights
where the cat doesn't come inside.
It's warm enough she doesn't need to,
and it's still light until eleven.

It's one of those nights
where I leave the naked window
open into the twilight.
There's never any cars
this late, late, late.

It's one of those nights
when the door is slammed
by the intruding air.
At least the angled glass
stabs into the night sky with
stiff hinges.