Siesta Time

He lies at the bedroom door
on guard like a dog —
my black cat.

My husband,
napping, rests secure
this overcast afternoon.

It’s an indoor kind of day:
light rain this morning,
dark sky now.

(Last night’s moon
was full but unseen.
Only the cats went outside.)

Happiness is a warm house,
with my man in it
and the cats,

peacefully
stretched out and snoozing,
while I make a new poem.


8 Days of Happiness: 3 / Six Sentences