the house quiets itself, the TV off one child asleep the other upstairs at last the night has fallen to me and my slender peace tap tappety tap on the keys

as I write this

the dog, though, still not at rest partially blind from milk blue cataracts

and partially deaf

she waits, impatient oh yes, she waits old age, her crutch and I wait as well for what we both expect will come this winter, perhaps