sharing the sweetness of breath, warmth, quiet, and rest
until the snoring begins
and blankets become tangled and hot
or hogged and coveted
and stray limbs wander into sensitive territories
leaving me the “wakeful flea” to balance hip-heavy on the inches near the edge
crowded, I roll over and out
while the two bears cuddling in the bed sigh deeply and spread wider
elsewhere,
sweatered and socked
or wrapped in a cozy,
I snuggle up in solitude and free space
dhamma for mama* 