They do love you back
Seek your pulse, your warm bones
Recognise your shadow
Read the wordless prickle
Of your atmosphere
At night you call them in
Scan the trees, check the stairs
For that struck match:
The spark of presence
Heat, heartbeat, eye contact
You give them names
Guess their histories, fathom scars
Bloodlines tracked or lost
Guard the space they occupy
Pour water, latch the gate
More finite than us
They go first. You are left
Grateful, mystified, bereft
A creature imprinted
By one who loved you back
Meg Mundell, January 2021