Once the summer night fell over the sky like a dark cloth, / or a black evening dress thrown across heaven's starry bed. / The hoo-hoot of an owl's complaint echoed from the branches / of a maple tree in the front yard. All else was silence. / The neighbor's unruly dog lay hushed beneath the porch. And a gentle wind, so unlike the fierce winds of winter, combed the leaves of the maple like so much hair. / We had solace for our grief inside talk about love. / You do not understand: my life always has been a puzzle, / a rune, a card player holding an unlucky hand.