Surprised still by
his stockinged tread
up the stairs, soft
thud for a man
so large; the breadth
of this shoulders
seeming to span
every stair width;
surprised too by
his gesture’s sweet
weight, removing
his shoes in the
dark so as not
to awaken
me as I lie
in the dark
listening to the
white oak boards creek,
as if the house
means to settle
deeper into
its heartwood – all
the way up the
stairs his footfall
is lit by street-
light and prospect.