Morning Pocket World
A small pocket of a world happens before my toast and eggs,
before I pad through the kitchen in oversized slippers,
before I whisper I-love-yous against everyone's fresh cheeks,
as the day begins.
I breathe in against my sweet cat's belly when I wake
and see the sun draw itself in long fingers over your neck.
I wait, still, before it reaches for me
to watch your eyes move dreams beneath their lids.
A dog wins his battle with a garbage truck,
while our cat growls from her windowsill, sure it is her victory.
Steam rises bright against the light above my secret first coffee,
waving with the movement of the shifting sheets.