to live
when everything seemed simpler
before we broke the earth
before the world turned too fast
to be sleeping in a quilted bed
with a black cat purring at its foot
and the embers of a fire sitting in a fireplace
keeping the cold of snowflakes out
to be woken early by the clinking of glass bottles
and a shadow passing through a curtain
with the clatter of a milk container
resounding before quieting on the doorstep
and the sound of the milkman’s footsteps
is calming as it grows farther away
like any worries in that moment,
that moment of stillness and warmth