Waking up slowly, softly,
Muzzily, fuzzily,
Like honey dripping under a table,
Like the warmth of curled cats,
In the crooks of your knees, 
At the end of the bed. 

Hold space. 
Keep the boundaries;
Guard and protect. 

Story telling is truth telling

A stool, unclaimed
A chair, empty.

A small channel of free space,
Splits the horde in two.