Glance over your shoulder; see how the picture changes.
Run a hand over your frozen sleeve: releasing dusty snow.
Break hard your sleep like a planted root and branch out.
Awaken the sun – a dance, or two, under it,
trample the grass!
Shed spores! Spread your toes! Circle and spin!
Dismantle the layers of clothes and stream across the road
to the side the early morning pancakes are on.

Shower me no more with a hooded crown, viable traction ever more.
On we come from Brooklyn, Queens and terraces on Park
to see our hands, once again, under the sun.
How we’ve slept and lived under chandelier,
waiting and watching with glasses on,
not to miss this summer’s dawn.