After the storm, I’m unprepared
for the light. It’s bright and my eyes
hurt. I want to wrap myself in a gray
blanket of clouds, read in bed,
light the fire in the fireplace.
Drink hot drinks.
But now, the pressure of daylight
saying—come, come to me, move
quickly under this sun, work
your body as it’s never been worked.
Plant more seedlings, climb on a bicycle,
dig into the soil and put seeds in the ground,
so you’ll have flowers all summer.