still lingering on treelit streets.


I liked night best because I knew it would come. From the window I listened to the second story of elm trees rustling, wordless, oceanlike. So much of what has soothed me has not been human. I drank in the sound, fantasized about love and death until the 11 o’clock freight train rumbled along the edge of town and how I let myself drift into that funneling.

Jennifer K. Sweeney, from “What Call,” How to Live on Bread and Music (Perugia Press, 2009)