It moves the dogs along the couch,
Toward the tile; invisible radiant damage
Itches beneath my shirt and I break a limb
From the aloe leaning thick-leaved, sharp
Against the west window.
It drowns the parking lot stark white
Pricking out each needle of the three pines,
Forest memorial, in a concrete retaining yard
In between the yellow deliver lane, last row,
And the undeveloped land.
It dries away to darkness cool on my arm
As we wait for the cars ahead to catch
The light beneath the freeway, to float
On fires remembered in thick shadows
Curling underneath us.
Yes sunlight has a way of moving and moving us as well. This is lovely Chrissa!
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