Pulling and pushing the light


I’ll take the texture
of this side of the street
and its brief angles
of spring reflected
in passing windows
over the crisp fingers
of winter stretched thin
along stubborn shadows
until the film of summer
paints the sunlight
a vibrant and molten gold.
Then, fighting for breath,
I’ll call upon the shadows
and the last remnants of night
clinging desperately
to the nooks and crannies
waiting for their turn
to grow whole once more
in the endless tilt of seasons.



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