I.
her soft footsteps shuffle from their slumber,
awakening the hushed orchestra of:
metal spoons and kettles and tinkling cans,
the jingling of boiling milk, of half-boiled eggs,
the sounds of breakfast.
(the sun is sleeping on its horizon)

II.
her ceaseless footsteps are not weary with night,
on your bed, you hear that decorative tune:
spoons, kettles, cans, stained cups and bowls
washing themselves after dinner.
(the moon is resting on its zenith)

this quiet love.