Looking Out From the Balcony

By Becky Nirav

atellite dishes cupped southwest,
glittering in the light,
turning their backs 
on brick
and shut windows
except for the one.
Standing balanced
on the tips
of both shoes,
facing a forest
on the edge.
Eyes level between second-floor panes
and the corners 
of marigold arches.
Chairs to the side
with their curly-cue arms, 
twisting 
as if playing 
with the sun. 
What difference between
the tall shapes sprouting from the earth
and those built on top of it?
Shoes disappeared,
ready to relax at the overlook.
Body wrapped in warm beams,
like the barely exposed hands 
of the few
and daring.