O, that Wednesday
when you knocked off early
when we were so tired, so weary
that we fell down on the bed like the dead
Side by side, garden-dirty, the both of us
The soil and air both soft and warm
Our tired feet in their wet sox hanging over the bed
Toes cracking like castanets in the breeze
Too tired to talk, we just laid there, awake
You could hear appliances humming in the kitchen
You could hear the dog and his sloppy drinking
from the blue bowl, and a fly, a screen door somewhere
But neither of us raised a finger, listening
Instead to our beating hearts, those drums of blood
We simply let love wash over us, cleanse us
heal us, peel the fatigue from our lives
Honeyed, loving thoughts were on our tongues
all the more sweet as time passed soundlessly
Those minutes, so mute and beautiful are
somehow younger than the rest of our bodies
Cellular happiness, dwelling, abiding and deep
© 2010 Viola Weinberg
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