Three women sit on the porch, swinging
On a bench, smoking cigarettes.
The still wind waits to take a breath;
The night sleeps with dreams of day.
Crickets sing songs wrapped around
Their legs; light bugs fly like stars in sky.
The bench gently rocks back and forth,
Little toes pushing against the floor.
Cradling themselves like little newborns
Sleeping on a string of white pearls,
Forgetting their troubles, enjoying each
Other, breathing against the silent world.

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