the morning fire

it's cold,

a very cold morning

with wind

blowing through the house.

of course it is, she says.

you left

the windows open again

last night.

it's almost November

not June.

come here,

i tell her, let's 

warm things up

a little before

the day begins.

then the dog jumps on

the bed.

not you

i tell him, down boy,

down,

but you my dear,

instead.