chilly August night,
first time in months,
dinner indoors—
garden tomatoes, basil,
zucchini dressed as pasta
a bottle of red wine,
dark chocolate you bought
just for me,
though I share.
We laugh and eat
and talk in early evening dark
of all the seasons ahead
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Puff Of Smoke Poems 
Oh, this poem is a sneaker. Thought I was just fine, then the last few lines and everything changed, “of all the seasons ahead.” Got me, and thanks.
Afore I forget to say out loud – me – I think we readers have a responsibility to respond. Using our words is a good way to do that job. Not all easy all the time, but so what. Good for the reader, good for the writer. Don’t care as much for unanimated books as I do participatory blogs. And I love books, so…