Past Summer of Shooting Stars

Dog Star over the Watchman,
And although you are human
And a failure, more or less,

As humans go, as humans
Compete, compare, and perish,
You feel contented with this,

For this and these few moments
When the weight of one summer
As a guest under the stars,

When the briefest, silent squibs
In the warm and windy air
Every night for months and months

Added disappearances
To each other, comforted,
As if disappearances

Were somehow cumulative,
And each gout of light and gone
Built up treasure forever.