Star Field . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

I don’t know if you remember those nights,
Hot July air, the kind that sticks to your skin.
We’d sneak out past the porch light glow,
Let the tall grass hide us in.

You always brought that old quilt—
The one with the st…