when i come over to your house in the morning before the light comes up i wait for the birds to talk amongst the leaves before they dip their feet into the dew, finding earth
worms and delight, fearful to disturb their peace i creak the screen door slowly, pulling cold air against me, hitting my chest before my hands before my eyes, shushing the dogs as i sneak in wanting love as much they do, but we wait till it becomes quiet again, as i slip off
my shoes, socks, shorts, shirt, to peel my body underneath summer’s quilt, hooking my cool
warm body against the tiredness of yours. although i’m a surprise you squeeze me as if i’ve been here all night, half-asleep half-dreaming, i kiss the spine between your shoulder blades and the birds have made themselves full, fluffing their bodies back to sleep.