three a.m.

you come home late.
it's three a.m.
the dog is in
the window, still
up, but groggy
awaiting your
return. you let
him out into
the court yard
where no one's
around, and he
barks and barks
at the darkness,
at the moon,
at the still
sound of night
having won over
the light. then
he comes in,
happy, and you
understand.