It likes to embrace and to soothe,
actions it seems to feel as a kind of give-and-take.
It knows nothing of what the world believes
of its indolence.

If deflating and casting are its nature
it doesn’t care about its nature.

It likes the sleepy weight of your head
against its gently textured skin.
It likes the silent warmth
of the loyal home body.

Its understanding is the understanding
of sugar with coffee, of letting what happens come.

A couch craves no sectional attractions
no next door love seat.
It waits for bodily impact
with fluffed pillows,
content.

It is its own stanza, complete.

Time does not tempt it
old dreams and new ones rest here alike
helping you
to much deserved
rest.

* Emulation of Jane Hirshfield’s “Button”