Light flickers across the dirty tablecloth
filtered through water and leaves suspended in air moving
as the sun rises from behind the mountains of the east.
Romeo and I sit behind the window,
awakening slowly to the beat and the heat
of chachalaca wings drumming from tree to bush,
recently up from the depths,
cackling earth-mother-in-law songs,
tales of the brood,
that twine in the vapor of freshly poured coffee,
as yet, too hot to sip.
The summer grasses tingle in the crystalline breeze outside,
becoming rapidly overwhelmed by the day’s spread,
oblivious to all our thoughts and regrets of the past,
all our intentions and worries for the future.
A dove coos from somewhere distant.
A gecko flits across the aperture and catches a tired moth.
Romeo, lays in my lap, eyes reflecting mine,
and touches my lips with a flick of his little dog tongue,
proclaiming love to be more important than anything
and always just enough,
dissipating all those ancient dreams
left in the darkness
crumbling beneath the feet of the dawn,
leaving only what is
waiting on the step outside the door
of the next breath.