While we nap
wind blows through the house,
doors slam,
rain patters outside.
Your hand twitches —
you’re already under.
I hear the cars roar by.
A jay squawks, and a flicker.
A little dog is yapping
and we are here in a sweet space
connected by the rise and fall of our breathing
and this short span of time
before I go.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 26, 2013
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