The first day of summer,
my calendar said,
though for some it is winter.
But that was yesterday.
This is the first day of today,
this, the first moment of now.
The migrating bird, the pulsing star
know their cycles without counting
so instead they can just dance.
Look: even now this moment
is looking at you with that look,
beckoning you out onto the floor.
June 22, 2021