we stand in the middle of the valley
and wait for the water
because what else can we do
but throw our arms up in the sky
drink our fill
and hold on tight
to the hands we choose.

in the morning
we wake with pillows over our heads
and listen for the sounds:
birds
the settling of the house
higher up, airplanes and higher still
maybe god
but best of all
each other breathing
in the moment of confusion
about being awake
until the familiar patterns
on the ceiling
call our names
and we rise
with sleep in our eyes.