What Contentment tastes like (poem)

 

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I can hear a dove sing

in the tree outside my window

with sore muscles and tired eyes

I listen to the sound of my husband

shuffling through books he’d brought from home

muttering to himself about the wisdom of they

who’d left part of themselves for the world

to learn from.

My belly is full of lunch that I made

with no thoughts other than to fill a hungry space

happy to listen to the world outside my window

Last night, a storm blew through our town

with thunder the sound of cannon fire

and flashes of white, dangerous, and angry lightning

that illuminated the shadows of the witching hour

The rain sloshed heavy against the windows

and I – knowing he loved it – woke him to listen

and listen he did; grabbing a pillow and a blanket

he turned from my bed and laid down on the couch before two living room windows with the blinds drawn back

and I on the floor beneath him

Happily- he watched until his breath slowed

warm and protected in the midst of the gale

I waited

until at last the reigns were pulled back and the tempest

eased and shifted – I returned to my bed

Now, today, the sun warm once again I sit in the quiet

with the leftover taste of coffee on my tongue

my husband thumbing through tomes muttering to himself

I smile, knowing this is what contentment tastes like.