Late night meditation

It’s eleven p.m. The street is quiet.
Neighbors’ lights go out one by one
and soon the midnight hour
when only street lights shine.
In the kitchen, dishes in the sink,
an uncorked Cabernet
and a slice of wedding cake in the fridge.
Cat sprawls out on the couch.
On a chair, an open book,
a story half-unfinished,
with maps to the moon
and colored photographs.
Down the hall, the bed waits,
pillows propped two high
and clean sheets.