Nights Like This

It’s nights like this:

When the tree frogs chirp in the bottom 
because it’s unseasonably warm.

When the breeze smells like the storm
that’s coming a day from now.

When the birds perch nearby
and sing their little songs as if I’m not listening.

When the world darkens and
the half moon peeks through the leafless trees.

When the scent of early flowers
makes the world seem softer.

It’s nights like these when I love my home
and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.