on any paricularly
warm day in May,
lurking in the shade
makes me feel
so much braver—
as if
this great rolling
penumbra of shadows
cast off by rooftops,
tall fences,
and branches
had lept forth expressly
to anoint my forehead
as it passes.
Perhaps,
if every last thing
the light touches
with its inquisitive
fingers and
unblemished eyes
is the kingly dominion
of some fierce,
noble lion,
then everything it doesn't
might as well
be mine.
