After a Picked-Over Meal

sunset over now,
I watch your arms
wade through the shallow blackness
beyond the deepening window
to gather up the scraped-bare plates.

if you come inside
bring in my empty glass
and yours too:
i've filled the pitcher now with something
cool and sweeter
we'll drink it before bed

and sleep a careless night
away

I'll wake you in the morning--
if you'll only come in now--
together, from the garden
we'll watch the mountains happen
in the sunrise