Dog in Bed
by Joyce Sidman

Nose tucked under tail,
you are a warm, furred planet
centered in my bed.
All night I orbit, tangle-limbed,
in the slim space
allotted to me.

If I accidentally
bump you from sleep,
you shift, groan,
drape your chin on my hip.

O, that languid, movie-star drape!
I can never resist it.
Digging my fingers into your fur,
kneading,
      I wonder:
How do you dream?
What do you adore?
Why should your black silk ears
feel like happiness?

This is how it is with love.
Once invited,
it steps in gently,
circles twice,
and takes up as much space
as you will give it.

I love/adore this simple poem, which (if you want to relate it to the Breast Cancer theme of this blog) is not only about love, it's about how to alleviate stress. And whenever or however you can do that, you are moving much, much closer to healing. NO DOUBT ABOUT IT.

 

 

Comments

[Jeff Kennedy]

Jon and I were just bemoaning another night of fragmented sleep sponsored by our own beloved Zola, who comes to the bedroom in the wee hours of the morning when the creeping chill in her own bed tips the balance in favor of our bed. The last stanza nails it and sweetens this morning's second cup of coffee. Thanks.