You look at me, and rejoice,
though my hair is gray,
my shoulders have shrunk,
and my chin wattles hand like a bloodhound’s.
And I look at you, and feel my heart leap.

Our love no longer climbs mountains.
It travels the warm equator,
and sleeps in a rocking hammock.
We no longer try to save the planet,
and there are no academy awards.

We wake, our fingers meet and mesh.
We say, “Good morning.”
and “How did you sleep?”
We read the paper, eat, and go to work
like any other bear or bird in search of berries.

And every evening
the neighborhood dogs come round
to gobble the biscuits we keep for them,
some with tricks, some drooling,
some just wanting their daily scratch and hug.