All winter, I was curled tight in my bed
so that my legs had become part of my torso
and my arms wrapped around the whole bundle
as to let nothing out,
or in.
In the early equinox morning,
the sun rose up over the row-homes that
stretched into a scraped horizon.
I could see it with one half-shut eye,
through one slice of blinds but I did
not move from my bulb.
Soon, soon, the glow blinded
it pierced into my drowsy eyelids and ever so gently
peeled away my fingers, prodded my arms out, then,
carefully pushed my legs straight.
I stretched across the sheets.
I stood gently, unaware.
The sun enveloped the whole of the city and room.
I was unsure of my steps,
but I stretched up and
drank in the light…blooming.
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