Long day s t r e t c h e s into a low slow night. The children are bathed and kissed, sent dreaming into their beds, and the household darkens and cools into a sweet slumber. She and me, we, repose and lean back. For this sweet too-brief stanza, yes, it's just we. A bottle of wine, a record player and amber light. I drop the needle and after a scratch and crackle, the soft tones rise up soft and gentle lilting singing of our summer-colored youth. We loaf and lean against each other, talking of everything, dancing wearily in each others arms in words and laughter. The music is a sweet incense, and we rest within each other. As the earth turns its hurry through the universe, all is she and I, we, and we're grooving.