Out of the instability of waking,
the chaos of light and eyes,
sounds and breath,
comes the inevitability.

His face appears
more or less as I dreamed it
but first touch
adds so much more.

At first, it could be any morning
but, after a yawn or two,
it’s this one.
As always, sheets are rumpled.
Pillows deeply concave.
But then a willingness to exist takes over.
a steady flow of moments
featuring recognition and confirmation.

I am assured with a look,
made complaint in a kiss
by how gentle the extraordinary can be. 
It’s essentially silent.
But then, so are the warm rays of the sun.