The spring sun pouring in big blinding bars

Across the bare mattress and I lying

Stretched out in the noon shine like a cat

And the dog sighing, bathed in warmth

On the floor, content with small life and the quiet seconds,

Which are the biggest lives and finest seconds of them all.

And with our pulse slowing, and our breaths going 

In and out, in and out, like warm waves washing ashore 

I wonder

Is it like this for Him always?

Is this what remaining an Animal is like,

Is this what Life really is?