We let the morning ring out
like an alarm clock that learned our names
and decided not to embarrass us.
Sunlight leans through the blinds
pitching productivity like a pyramid scheme.
We mute it.
Your shoulder is a country
I keep renewing my passport for.
We inventory the silence,
find it fully stocked.

I practice stillness
like it’s a vow I plan to keep.
Outside, errands pace themselves.
Inside, we go missing on purpose.
Someone once told me love isn’t fireworks
it’s the couch or a bed, the long exhale,
choosing the ordinary
and calling it holy.

(c)BobChristian