Poem with No Clouds

Through a window washed just yesterday a half-hidden sea-color glows in the needles of an evergreen,

a city tree on a busy corner, a tree large and dense enough to shade me – blinds wide open, breasts and thighs bare – while I scribble through an endless June afternoon

and my blue spruce luxuriates in sunlight.

Earlier today at a different window, one that calls for clothing, I glanced across the street and saw an ambulance. It sat gleaming a long time.

On the arm of a paramedic a woman emerged from her apartment. Ice pack held to one eye, she stepped into the gleam. This took a long time. The vehicle stayed put, all doors shut

then moved forward.