Dave Bonta mixes a short prose passage with two haiku-like verses, and together they capture a quiet evening during the pandemic. The speaker stands on a ridgetop at nightfall and takes in the scene: a bright Venus, a thin moon, the dark mass of the Allegheny Front, and the scattered lights of a small town. He notes, with some surprise, that the power has stayed on, something that feels unusual in rural America. He also imagines Muslim families in town breaking their Ramadan fast, which quietly links him to neighbors he can't see.
The first haiku brings in a smell, a backyard grill, and the ordinary comfort of people at home. Then the traffic fades and a whip-poor-will calls from far down the ridge. The final image, a glowworm blinking slowly in the forest, is small and patient. The mood is calm, observant and gently grateful. The speaker seems to find reassurance in steady lights, shared rituals and the natural world carrying on.