By the way wanderings this poem, a witness to the sun’s racing arcs a gift the pulls and sways, worn down soles, your dainty dancing spots, your umbra, lengthening of days.
Those we lose from our day-to-day loop towards no clear end. Chances aim finds the sun’s pronated rays, moving shadows on alley walls.
Leave uncaptured the outcome: our steps, lilies from the milk of a solar maximum, reverse polarity trace a slow certain cycle back to a busy square the will-he-won’t-he of a question.
Whether we let the shadows lengthen on the stair scatter pigeons with a dance that burns bright the glare of an early morning sun.