Capable of Pleasure

Bare feet sliding into bed,
A yawn and satisfying
Stretch, soft moss patches on rocks

In mild, low winter sun, done.
So long as the skin can thrill
To touch, the core turn and grunt

Like any satisfied beast
In the globe of sensations,
You can live with it. Go on,

Sure, go on. So long as pangs
Don’t prevent some small delights,
Each morning earns its goodnight.