The house was quiet

As dawn crept over the horizon

Crossing the threshold

Coming into the kitchen

Where you brewed the coffee,

The scent filling the house with

The pleasure of anticipation

A soft delight which brushed away

Delicately

Night’s depths and fatigue.

It was nothing particularly special

Sitting at your table at dawn

Listening to birdsong

Especially since mountains rose in the south

And the Pacific Ocean crashed just to the north

On an island offering

The best options for all varieties of vacationers.

No addition to the scenery could improve upon paradise

Yet

The sacredness came not in the landscape

Or the water, or the birdsong

But in the long, slow mornings

Filled with comforting stillness

A long, love-filled hug

Between two hearts, too long separated.