In the collected humid light of dusk,
an orange sun slowly sinks
below the hayfield,
and we come to the farmhouse
in the relief that is evening.
Stewed apples loll in their
saccharine syrup bath, smelling
of melted sugar and love. Tender
beef, smothered mashed
potatoes, and fresh green beans
make the rounds at the dinner table.
With dishes washed and left to drip dry,
she studies for Sunday School,
her soft hands turn worn pages.
He contemplates a quiet life
as he rocks in the massive burnt
umber textured rocking chair.
It is Saturday night
completed in darkness
punctuated by slow, steady
snoring, and crickets chirping
into the thick night air.