I wake up
to the lazy intersection
of dream and evening noises,
of sleep-infused limbs,
and the slow wheel of reflected headlights,
window-shaped, across the ceiling.
It’s hard to rise
from the compelling coziness
in the place where the threads to the day
have dissolved,
hard to drag myself away
from the sweet tangle
that pulls me languidly
into its spell.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 5, 2013