Idling

The cats’ engines are idling, purring at lower RPMs
while the dog sleeps, having fallen into a dream of
sunbeams pausing on their way through a window
just to warm his belly and rump. We’re all idling here.
I listen to my breath, then dog and cat breath, even
your breath, however far away. A vibration follows;
a sigh—the dog adjusts his glowing scrim of dreams,
half-closed eyes flicking. Some roughness in his idle,
just like cottonwood leaves quaking in a slight wind.