Rainy morning.
No one else is up.
The house is mostly quiet.

Refrigerator hums,
coffee pot burbles,
churning out a few fresh cups.

The corner of the sofa calls me,
red brocade stained and worn
in spots to purple. Needs

cleaning. Till fatter times
we won’t be able. Here
and now I’ll settle

to it leaning
into the golden pool
beneath the lamp.

The dog is up.
He joins me on the cushion,
presses back into my hip

for me to stroke. Chuffs
contentment. Free
hand seeks the cup:

Take a sip, check
the weather, read
an email, read a book.

For quarter of an hour,
a house untroubled.
Did I mention that the sofa
needs cleaning? Doesn’t
even agitate my bubble.