The Sun Where It Is and Isn’t

Warmth grows in patches here and there

on the sidewalk where the sun

can trespass; without permission

it arrives in a heap and lies,

splayed out in sections of the grass.

It’s the sun, always the sun,

greedy, a bug wanting to land

its sticky legs on everything.

The buildings won’t stand for

that bullying – they cast a shadow

dark enough the sunlight sulks away,

but when I stand in their shade,

I become the trespasser.

So I move on, on the path

set down for human feet,

and wish I had a way to create

my own darkness, to avoid the hot,

intrusive light that thrills

to run itself up my arms and legs.

Yes, I cast my own shadow,

but it’s always one step behind

and I can’t hide within its outline.

There is nowhere for us to go.

There is only the abuse of the sun

and the invasion of sunless places

that can never truly belong to us.


4 thoughts on “The Sun Where It Is and Isn’t

Thoughts? I love those.

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