Space Heater

Part of the day is the chill
Of the body in the sun,
Behind the window, outside

Of which it’s colder, brighter
Still. Birds trill since they can’t not.
The sun’s not moving itself

At all. The body can’t get
Comfortable. The green lawn
Glints, a dewy chandelier.

Body dozes in the chair,
A moment, wakes with a start,
And then leaps through the portal.