Morning Power

for Ana, on her 26th birthday

Cherry blossoms, lychees, white
            fur slippers. In sweetness you
  rise despite internal cries.
            The day outstretched like
                            cats before you. Whatever
     will you do for this moment
                                              to feel true?

    
    The little things incite delight –
you reach for a joke;
       oh yes, that feels right.

Home is part place
              part love. Parting the day
      in two. You don’t want to
                leave but leave you must,
                       you scoop up home’s heat,
   eight hours to keep.

Three bodies asleep,
    one stirs and stirs like
a spoon in malted
                 milk. One hears the sound
   of you leave. A sound too clear
         for a small bent ear.

      The last one who’s left, lies
slightly bereft.
          In the absence of heat
          and you to compete, a
cold
    cold shower.

 Morning power.