When my husband wakes,
he has rogue curls bent
from the night folding and
creasing them into origami cranes.
Each morning, I can’t help myself.
As birds circle his head, I try to
tame them by running my hands
through his flocks though I know
they won’t settle until he showers.
His curls are long now, stumbling
over themselves in soft repeating
collisions as he moves in bed.
Come morning, Great Herons flying!