a sun-filled morning

I love mornings
so much more now.

When the alarm clock
threw me out of bed
at 6 am,
I resented the darkness
outside my window.

It always took me
twenty minutes
to remember
how good it is to feel alive.

Those were long years.

Now, I wake up
when the sun hits our eyes
and I feel him stirring
beside me.

I never have problems
remembering my gratitude.

And I have more
photographs of breakfast
than ever before.

(inspired by 3191. of course.)

even towels can be beautiful

He has taught me
to put wet towels
under the cutting boards,
to ensure they do not slip.

"I don't want you to cut yourself,"
he told me,
his face a call of caring.

Later in the day,
I turned around to chop something
and saw this beauty.

In the midst of quiet conversation
music pattering behind us
such closeness
an afternoon together,
unexpectedly

we heard rabid tappings.

snow?
rain so hard it could shatter
the street below?

a blur of white
danced across
the black street
beneath it.

we ran downstairs
stuck our tongues out
danny put out his hands
caught some white
it turned into
hail
in his hands.

as we danced,
our downstairs neighbor
opened his door
and said, "whoa."

the hail had been
raining down
for fifteen minutes
and he had not noticed.

we felt sorry
for that kid.

this could be....

the cover of my book.

Monica took it, intent.

The pizza is gluten-free,
which meant she could eat it
too.

I made the dough for the crust.
Danny made the pizza and plated it.
Monica took the photographs.

We all laughed,
together.

buildings rising sharply

last week, the sky was blue
we drove around downtown
meandering.
he grabbed my camera and
started taking photographs
out the window
through the sunroof
in the rear view mirrors.

i loved seeing
how he sees the world.
no one had ever given him a camera before.
he kept wanting to take more.

this one is his.

i love how his photographs
are much more masculine
than mine.

i don't know what that means
but it's true.