On A Bench

Over the bench they draped a checkered blanket
like a picnic. A cold blue fills the gaps
where leaves laid down to rest
on the dew-laced lawn of a park.

She raises an arm, rakes her fingers through
bristled fur, leans against her lover,
whispers plans for the future,
as beer pools on the concrete.

Their dog turns in his sleep, arches his back,
ears pointed, roving for the sound
of a misstep. From across the street
I can hear the sound of a hearth
through the window of a home they built.