June in Union Square

Fertile and so deeply green
she snuggles ruddy Zeckendorf.
I have to laugh—his condos peak
where Kleins once bargained
for position as if the decades lust
to pander Next, to court
her park and playground
with steady, swelling
company. A vacant lot
sits waiting. Next.
O she is busy!
Behind her, Empire State’s
lit up, nearby, the brighter tip
of Metro Life, its jewel
up and out and pulsing—
it’s not the suburbs—
ambitions vie in sight.
I say hooray
for heat in summer
as I peel to flimsy clothes,
shoes with open toes, to relish
benches, sweat and buzz.
At night
I hike up to our rooftop
to catch hot breezes blowing by
and watch the moon
caress two spires. This June
we need her
tenderness. . . this fallen
year. . . we need her light.

--Myra Shapiro