Morning Ritual
by Ute Carson

I used to bolt from bed
as if my bag of duties
had to be delivered
before the sun had dazzled through the mist.

Now I move over to you
on the pillow next to mine
and curled around each other
your warmth finds its way to my skin.

We let the cock crow several times
and sluggishly
with the day slowly waking,
we roll out together,
hips wedged
like leaves glued by the morning dew.

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