they’re his children; well-tended, -fed, -nurtured, patted on the head at night as the lights are turned off and the doors are shut while they’re left to their dreams.
one of the good things about this time of year is waking up at 5:15 to birdsong. of course, waking up is always a good thing. where you wake up is probably another good thing; for instance your own bed. or your lover’s bed is a good thing, too. had they gotten up just before you woke to birdsong, their side of the bed just now cool to the touch? at that moment, with the birdsong as the score to the movie that is unreeling as you wake, the thought that the most productive use of your day may be to stay in bed flies by, just like the dream that ended when you felt their absence, the rumple of bed clothes a closing door.