Cherubic munchkins
climb into our bed
in the pre-dawn light,
electrifying the air,
bouncing and jouncing as if on a trampoline.

One clings to a dinosaur
with flashing eyes.
The other keeps ringing up
a cash register,
announcing again and again: “Have a nice day!”

They light up the morning darkness,
like fireflies on a hot summer night.
The lilt of their laughter creates
the scent of a bouquet of flowers.

Mongolian contortionists tangle around us.
They wriggle and jiggle between us,
flailing about like seasoned trapeze artists
doing high wire tricks.

When the hilarity subsides
and it’s time to leave,
a stone-cold level of silence descends.
All that remains is a heap of toys
at the foot of our bed.