Before earth uncovers sun,
I hear small feet and giggles,
the clutch of kids waking,
crowing for morning’s warmth.
Before day moves night aside,
I hear husband’s solid breathing,
the laborer still resting,
soaking up time’s ease.
Before life lights up,
I hear myself move toward standing,
the tenderer, brewing and baking,
filling little bellies, big hearts.
After earth covers sun,
after night moves day aside,
after life dims to dusk,
we remain each other’s orbit, the gravity of love.