The One on the Sidewalk

buildings, like gnomon of huge sundials,
cast lengthening shadows across the city:
dim places in late december.

the wind is gentle but cools your exposed skin

hands in your pockets,
elbows pulled in against your hips,
you pass down a blue sidewalk.

the angled winter sun hits you
as you cross onto the next block.
your shoulders loosen and lower.

light glares off the glass faces of hotels and banks.

cool air moves in whorls around you
while the fabric of your clothing absorbs the heat;
warming your back as it penetrates the layers.