Instinct

For J.

There is something in me that recognizes
or remembers, somehow,
the ancient beginnings of domestication
when I was lured from the edge of the forest
by the promise of a warm fire and a full belly.
And something more:
your hand on me.
Your careful hand, its comfort, my wish to stay.
When you love me without
tying me down, without
trying to tame me
I can recall that first warm meal,
the moment I knew
that life by the fire was safe.