This Bliss

This Bliss

What is the swirling snow?
I laugh.
I have nowhere to be, nowhere to go.
She will hand me the sloeberry wine.
We will talk.
And nestle, together.
Our pooch, his name is Found, sneezes, yonder.
She gets up to let him out, he wants out.
I watch her.
What did I do, to deserve her, and this?
This bliss.
"Go. Scoot. Second thoughts?"
He looks back at me.
"I think you want the outdoors, Found," I say.
He leaves.
She returns.
And I have never been,
More indoors.
This bliss.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2007