A Secret Afternoon

On a secret afternoon rain taps like a good friend’s nails on the glass on a coffee shop window,

Blurry edges of half-light fills the room as autumn dangles in seasonal limbo,

Two chocolate brown dogs, box-faced, and long-snouted, lie curled in cashew shapes,

Waiting to be wooed, lying longing to be touched, patient to be placated

Hazel eyes follow me as the fifteenth hour dispels the spectre of work,

I embrace the sofa like a long lost lover,

As I lay, acquiesced, the dogs indulge me in an embrace entwined,

Between my legs or within my arms, we resume positions once again,

Clouds draw in and skies turn a warm grey to entice a tired man,

Secret afternoons come soon enough if one waits with holy patience,

So familiar are these stolen moments found in October plans,

Where wild abandon is nothing more than quiet and complacence,

The beauty of this hidden hour, of calm, of cotton, of linen,

The three of us lay together, breathing slow and in tandem,

Dreams swirl above our napping heads as clouds are spinning,

A rude phone pings with an interrupting tone, a work memorandum.