The First Morning of Autumn

It's still dark.

A deep silence

presses the chill into our blankets.

A silence that absorbs everything--

your breathing,

the furry noises the cats make in their sleep,

the muddle of my sleeplessness.

A thick silence like a damper.

In the night

we've pulled the extra quilt up.

The cats have nested by our feet.

When the heater clicks on,

you blink awake

and leave our bed

in that quick and automatic way.

So quiet.  So careful of disturbing.

Your feet know their way through the dark

to the closet

to the stair.

Far away,

the garbage truck starts down a street

and I am missing you already--

missing your shoulder--

and move to tuck myself

into your warm shadow

on the sheets.