primitive proceedings

'good morning, sweet girl,"
as i rolled over into the
uncomfortable presence
of three bags of bones
and fur, warm from the heart
presently pumping in each
of their miniscule bodies;

good morning is
my favorite thing to hear
when it is formed by your specific
tone and pitch.
the feeling of your warmth
enveloping me sends my body
into fits of undeniable comfort.
it is as if you are a magical force -

and maybe you are.
delivered to me when we needed
each other most:
i, lost in a maze of self-inflicted inferiority,
and you, left wondering the damage
of your year's first real detrimental downfall.
we became each other's best bet:

a bet i wouldn't take on anyone else.
your beauty is astounding,
a snowy mountainous range of
good intention and love.
the only thing i know and love:
my cure for bad days and my
hope for better coming ones.

mundane proceedings

sometimes life gifts us a hand
of painstakingly plain-jane cards
to remind us that
life is
beautiful.

that magic is real
even when we are not
conscientiously creating it.
sometimes just the task of
a chest rising
and
falling
can constitute a miracle.

this morning, as the sky
clouded over and the rain
pressed itself to my window panes,
i reminded myself that
it is not the hand i have been dealt
that decides my winnings;
it is the way i place
my cards
on the table.