The Branch

Freedom and security.

It is night. He sleeps beside me as I read my book. Appropriately, Wild. He turns away, the light distracting his steps toward a long awaited slumber. I turn the pages quietly. 

I read. I grow drowsy. I reach for my bookmark. I reach for the lamp. I try to move as gently as the sound of his breathing. He stirs. 

I feel him turn toward me, draw closer. 

"Are you coming to collect me?", I ask. 

His sleepy mumbled affirmative reply. He seeks me, and I crawl into my space where his body carves a resting spot for mine. He wraps himself around me and is asleep again before my head finds the pillow. His breath on my neck and his hand encircling my wrist. I sigh; having found where I belong. 

Alis Volat Propriis. She flies with her own wings. But even the soaring bird needs a place to land, to nest, to rest.