57 Degrees

 ​It is quiet in my house
The windows are open
A tree with bristling brown leaves
Stands tall just 5 feet from where my
Ass is planted on the couch
My god, the temperature is perfect
I forget and then, gob-smacked, remember
When a degree hits that sweet spot
--you know the one you were calibrated
to thrive in?
And it’s like your skin wakes you up
From the outside in
 
I don’t get many moments of quiet like this
Windows open
My dogs, heathens that they are, cannot resist
A cacophonic, sometimes violent reaction
To the sights and sounds of the outside world
So we barricade ourselves in the dark with
Entertaining sound barriers
--and as if on cue, as I write this, my silent peace
Is broken by a high-pitched, frenetic yelp
The little dog has seen something offensive
Out the window
 
…
 
Muzzled now
(A few minutes to correct the behavior)
The big, fur-ball settles into a nap on the floor beside me
Looks like I’ll get a few minutes more of
Silence
Silence safe for brown leaf-ed breezes
The sounds of which nestle into my eardrums
Like soft, sensual caresses upon my nape
 
My god, nature itself is singing the most beautiful
love song I’ve ever heard

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