the warmth of sun in summer
by the kitchen table
behind the glass doors
hidden amid beige walls and heat stoves
the lingering smell of sweet potatoes
I watch as the windowsill drowns
under a coat of
gold
the winter sun rests
like the rind of a clementine
its orange sweetness
a slow silhouette
beyond the fruit basket
as the shadow crawls across the cream colored tiles
of the kitchen floor
it sets
and finds warmth in darkness