The birds in your audio are
chirping in sync
with the birds outside of mine.
The black lab snores while she too
wishes we
were not
home.
Pacing slumps
from room to room looking for
a six foot space
for air
for love, tired love.
for meaning
for answers
for more and deeper breaths —
tired of begging
tired of touch
treats no longer harvest
a pithy of reward.
We are caught wondering if the
Winter’s grass
may someday find
its way