Even when the mornings are cold,
I enjoy watching you wake: I enjoy
your spine, its stretch and curve,
your arms reaching out so far
you might be trying to grasp the air
and pull it on for a shawl to clothe
your bare and goosebumped shoulders.
Your round mouth greets the world.
I enjoy your naked legs, heels to hips,
slinking out from tangled sheets,
across me, smooth and straddling
and then I enjoy watching you walk,
every morning, as if your small toes
are excited to touch the ground again
because they have been too long from it.