In just four short lines, Dave Bonta sketches a quiet scene of someone writing and reading at night. The poem opens with letters answering letters, an image of an ongoing exchange that seems to pass back and forth without a clear beginning or end. Then the lines widen: the letters at night answer the night itself, as if the darkness were another correspondent, and the speaker's words were a reply to the silence around them.
The final two lines bring us to the speaker, eating alone, and the last word, "with pleasure," changes how we read the whole thing. Being alone could sound sad, but here it isn't. The speaker seems content, even relishing the solitude, perhaps because the letters keep them company in a way that feels full rather than empty. The mood is calm, intimate and a little dreamy. Nothing dramatic happens, and that's the point: the poem finds a small, private happiness in an ordinary meal, a quiet night and words traveling between people.