He sings
along to 80s alternative
while whisking eggs
for French toast;
our Sunday morning ritual.

He stops to chat
with rocks and raccoons
when we take
our weekly 
walks in the woods. 

He laughs
deep, husky, often;
it’s contagious,
so I laugh
deep, husky, often.

He understands
stability and spontaneity
can…
and must…
coexist.

He knows the exact spot
where I enjoy
being bitten
and exactly
how hard to bite.  

He loves
black cats
and big dogs
and they
love him.

He recites
The Jabberwocky
from memory
without missing
one absurd word.

He lovingly
cartographs my curves
mapping every detail
appreciating the diversity
of the landscape.

He wraps
our 12-foot tree
in a thousand
white twinkle lights
without complaining once.

He never asks
to see my words
but never declines
to read
when I ask him.

He plays guitar
on the front porch
during rainstorms
while I dance
in the deluge.

He is
destined
to walk
into my life
any day.