It is always cheerful, seeing shadows whitening in the room. One cat’s warm belly against my head and another purring at the bend of my leg. To get up means upsetting the critters, and that is enough reason to stay warm under the covers, at least until one of us moves.
Images of night linger. Fragments of a dream, fuzzy on the edges. Something brilliantly composed is melting away. A smile, shy and sweet, tender.
Tender is the moment, this returning; though lovers see dawn as a cruel sign to part. A slow rise so as not to twist the back or hurt the knees. A soft landing.
Lovely… And out here, to fall asleep watching the first wintery snow fall. Aiken curls up in the bend of my leg. My large black dog, Osk, sits next to my single twin bed with its flattening mattress and rests his head on the side considering something. It is time for the winter cave. I turn out the light – one giant paw and then his full lumbering self. The heat is turned down. The air is cold. I find my own spot in our creature sleep. Our Aubade.