Past the field
Through the briar
By the breaths of people lingering in the light
Past the smoke
Into the mill
Creeping closer
With the stealth of a cat
Up the stairs
And onto the windowsill
Like a hawk in its nest
A pencil and paper
And a breathtaking view
With an idea
And new perspectives
She put the pencil to the paper
And as though the paper was a ballroom
And the pencil a dancer
She wrote.
New York, New York
