Certainty

Sunday morning, 7:00 AM
I slip beneath the covers of your bed, press
my body into the shape of your own,
borrow heat, listen to your measured breathing
and wait on the edge of confidence.
Caught in the sharpness of need, of desire,
uncertain if this dance is lust's masquerade
or love's reflection.

Some things are certain.
Ice thaws in heat.
Bulbs awaken in softened soil.
Moonrise follows sunset.
Midwinter branches leaf green
and verdant in Spring.
But between us, much is in doubt,
our future held hostage by seasons past
and a need to harness seasons future.

So we press the current living--
this here-and-now space--
into the box of certainty,
clamp its lid
and step forward
without change.