My son wakes in Barcelona.
My wife says goodnight from D.C.
My other son hugs me and goes upstairs.
My cat is sleeping by my side.
Crickets, for some reason,
are out in the warm May night.
Moist air settles on my skin,
and I offer my restless fingers
to the four winds of the night
that circle the world in an instant.
Over here, click the crickets.
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