the ducks don’t ‘in a row’ here

on the dirt road to Cabeção

I slowed to a stop and whistled 

the sole sheep on the road

heading toward then past

stopping to see what and who

then turning to go about her day

carefree in a hop-skip way

lumberjacking

I

the things celebrated here

are not the things celebrated there

how can she miss those things

when she rarely attended

doesn’t attend these things now?

II

an introverted extrovert is not

an extroverted introvert

one surrounds themselves with others

with forays at home here and there

while the other nests at home with

rare lunches and cancelled plans

knowing alone isn’t lonely 

an hour of sleep in ten minutes

I was sleeping sound when

She startled me awake with 

her wet nose booping mine 

in the wee hours of light dark,

when the street light goes off

and the world is quiet and still

the best hours to cocoon 

muscle-mem’ry reaching out

touching soft ears, I cooed

still half-slept, “ it’s okay…”

always to her I coo since her baby years

are unknown to me, 

settling, roaming, settling, roaming

right-side left-side, back I stirred

She stirred, both of us stirring 

arms legs here there, I accommodated 

always I accommodate her changing places 

while trying to sleep myself 

checking the clock

turning the fan off then on

kicking covers off then on

an hour of sleep in ten minutes

then fifteen then thirty

then finally 6 am came ‘round

timing when it’s okay to rise

to eat to sleep all my life

setting times to do

breakfast eaten, NOW She sleeps 

soundly curled into the nook 

of my left ankle and rear-end 

legs forming a tent for her always

and my own eyes won’t stay closed