an early day,

when my eyes awake to the lapping of sunshine.
i feel the tassels of this blanket come lose.
red thread threading through my hands.
thoughts of you heading through my head.

as if you were pulling in,
in that old Ford,
shaking the California from your hair.
all that wilderness and happy rust leaving
a dusty beach in our driveway.

as if you were clunking up the stairs,
familiar,
waiting later to unpack.