At first light she jumps on my chest,
pawing with her delicate little mouse feet
and wagging her tail in canine urgency.
I roll sleepily from bed and quickly dress,
familiar by now with the morning routine.
I throw on a coat and slip on my shoes,
Mazie leashes our darling little jumping bean,
and out the door and into the winter chill we plunge.
A rich rosy dawn, and flock after flock of crows
are on the wing right over our heads, loudly cawing
beneath a sharp sliver of moon in the dark blue expanse.
When she finishes, she runs over and looks up at me,
indicating her readiness to be lifted and carried back
to the warm blanket where she can snuggle again,
Once we’re relaxing back in the happy place,
I cradle her walnut head with my right hand, while
with my left thumb I gently rub her little chest.
She responds with a big yawn, closing her eyes
in pure pleasure as I massage her tiny form
and whisper soft endearments.
When I stop, she gazes up at me with such a look
of tender guileless love my heart melts. No translation
required, the reason for everything — not other than this.
Writing On Water 