Dog

We are feeling the same sunlight.

No doubt. We share this porch. 

We have worked every day to be here.

You, over there

wrestling sleep silent

(besides whatever small sounds 

escape in breath and immediately join the breeze).

I will not wake you--

only watch

for the rhythm (I know it exists)

that syncopates between the rise and fall

of your chest and the gentle rustle in the trees.

I know if I find it (can’t say I ever have),

I could join this lazy evening party--

count it off like people

try to count sheep to sleep

(I doubt this really ever works), but

it doesn’t matter much--

the birds are getting louder. 

I’m distracted,

don’t notice--

until I hear your skin 

slap against itself

in a tremendous shake

as you come at me to share

the heat you stole from the sky

and hid in your black, bristle fur--

you are awake.

It’s time to go inside.