everything, and then you

i love the ordinary things.coffee before anyone speaks to me.the exact weight of a cat deciding to stay.the first cold second of clean sheets.

i love them the way you love a languageyou were born into —easily, without noticing,the whole of it just there.

but youi love the way you love a languageyou chose,the hard way, as an adult,every word a small deliberate miracle,nothing automatic,all of it on purpose,

so that even now,even tired, even used to you,i still, some mornings, have to stopand conjugate the fact of youslowly,like something i am afraidof getting wrong.