Night's blackness a welcome but imperfect muffle

It's dark all around,
night's blackness a welcome
muffle over a busy, boisterous day.
My husband snores, my children slumber.
My world is so still I can hear my heartbeat
tap a sleepy rhythm on my pillow.

I turned the lights off grudingly;
I don't want to stop reading as this time just
for me feels to have only just begun.
But responsibility and tomorrow forced my hand.

And yet, here I am.
In my new AROMO, a space off our bedroom
instead of my sweet little shed out back.
That spot will belong to someone new in two short weeks.
The boys and I cleaned it out with finality on Saturday.
What remains is the mailbox they filled with cicada shells,
their colorful paint jobs on the walls inside.
The window box and sink,
the peg board they never really used.

Time goes by in drags and ephemeral fits.
My new AROMO is perfect, as was my old one.
Tonight's plum tart was as show-stopping as ever;
it is both new and familiar every time.
I can still taste Dalila's tamales, a gift made and brought
up from Mexico to me last week. The rojo and verde sauces,
the banana leaves and corn husks, the perfect masa. Only a
practiced hand can make tamales like that.

I must not forget to buy more plums after drop-off tomorrow.
Must prioritize a work-out before my ladies lunch. 
Hope the rain finally stops, hope the sun finds us again, 
hope all the new red wrigglers in my vermicomposter are
soldiering through this unseasonably cold weather. My
tomato and pepper plants too.

It's dark all around, night's blackness a welcome
but imperfect muffle over today. I should go.