Village twilight; alone in the apartment I fry pork chops and make iced tea. Sadie clicks about on the linoleum below me, wagging her tail watching me book, waiting for scraps to fall. The window fan blows, the television drones gently in the next room. There is a presence of summer peace and cool lawns at twilight and is it memory or precognition that fills this moment, and me, with such a simple joy?