Sleeping Partners

She snores a bit, but that's okay, together we form the horn section of a Brass Band. At dawn we practice together, bending the knees, and oiling joints with syrup and black coffee. When the sun climbs over the oak in the backyard I go my way, walking out on my plodding paths, she makes cupcakes for the fairies that our neighbor fervently believes inhabit her hungry soul. I have a few friendly demons, and some drinking buddies. In the late morning I write stuff. When evening shuts our bodies down, we sleep curled-up in twill and puff rolling our guttering togues into the same snore-along melody.