Slung lightly in the bony orbit we look
out into the winter.

We look through stacks of books,
melt butter in the kitchen,
listen to albums, listen
to the click of the heater,
unwrap windows in the mornings
for sunlight, undo
each other in the evenings
for the hunting-out of
the caves of winter.  Bears
sleep all winter in caves of winter.

We sleep all night
with the rise and fall of the mountain
or the eye.  Darting between us