Cuddle Weather

Under your arms, sir.

That's where I find my rest.  Be it the breaking of day, after your long and unending battle against fire, illness, and lack of sleep.
Or after we are through with the gym, both sweaty and quite a mess.
Maybe in the winter, in the snow, in far-off places and open Northern skies and low Fahrenheit so foreign to our Texas-born love.
Or in Summer, when it's too hot to hold hands in the back of your truck at the drive-in.

My place, my point of being, my life -
When I can finally breathe again, and forget the rest of the world's noise
And calm my own breath to the steady beat of your heart,
Astounded by the simplest things.  Coffee in the morning, shelves full of unread books, little kitty paw-pads outside my bedroom door, mass on Sundays, and your arms...

Always returning there.  Your arms, sir.
My arms.