There was always this moment in the morning,

When the sun sat low in the sky,

A moment when all was still throughout the house.

 

When you and the kids were still asleep.

And Rusty was resting on the side of our bed.

I'd watch his rib cage and belly lift to the slow steady cadence

Of a nearby ticking clock.

 

I'd wonder if you were awake yet,

Or was your mind still lost in a dream?

You had a habit of talking in your sleep,

Then having no memory of what caused it.

 

Or was I to ponder my thoughts alone

On this chilly spring morning in April?

When dew hung on the branches,

Collecting inside dormant flower cups.

 

When the morning light began to seep in through the cedars,

You lay in my arms,

Our bodies aligned so perfectly,

My arms wrapped under yours,

My hand resting on your heart,

Your hand resting atop of mine.

 

I'd watch out from our bedroom window,

As two familiar finches jockeyed for position on a nearby branch.

We knew them well.

In fact, we'd even given them names.

 

Do you remember? What were they called?

Oh that's right. Rocco and Siegfried.

They were brothers who had migrated west from the Philadelphia area

In search of the clean air of the Pacific Northwest.

 

Rocco was the more dominant one.

He had a longer torso,

And when a potential mate would come into their area,

He'd stretch up on his powerful legs,

Wings and tailfeather outstretched,

Revealing a rather impressive plumage.

"Look at me!" Rocco would announce to the world,

As he stood proudly in front of poor Siegfried.

 

Siegfried was no match for Rocco.

He'd hop down the branch,

But then instinctually, Rocco would move with him.

They'd playfully flutter and dance around one another,

Their rosy breast plumages on full display,

Singing their unique love melodies to the world.

 

Siegried and Rocco had it timed just so,

A rather strange syncopated interlude of overlapping melodies--

Whenever Siegfried would begin his,

Rocco would start just a split second behind,

and drown him out.

 

It was a familiar melody to me,

Like a childhood nursery rhyme,

Something that had subconsciously sunk into my memory

Through the years,

Like the air I breathed.

When I close my eyes I can still hear it in my head,

It’s grown fainter now that you’re gone,

But it’s still there.

 

I'd hum the melody in your ear and blow lightly.

Then wait for your ear to lift,

As a smile came to your lips.

"Good morning," I'd whisper,

As you squeezed my hand and pressed it against your heart.

 

Those are the moments I still miss.