I've had Robert Frost's Acquainted with the Night poem stuck in my head intermittently for awhile now. There is something about the rhythm and feel of that poem, even though I have trouble remembering the words.
Tonight the poem really seemed to fit. I was taking recycling out to the end of our driveway and glancing at the stars peaking out from over the tree tops. Crickets sang thier summer song while a cool breeze carried the soft scents of freshness. Looking around and feeling everything the line about walking past the furthest city light hit me.
Kind of ironic in a way, from the end of our street the city skyline is visible.