Sitting on a marble bench
I can see ballet dancers
practicing their barre
at Pacific Northwest Ballet.
The International Fountain
hums and glistens
and the Space Needle
stands proud and tall.
Sunny and 70 degrees,
this is no longer Seattle.
Dogs are being walked,
women do yoga,
men throw frisbees.
Now the ballet dancers
are practicing jumps.
They leap across the
hardwood floor of the studio.
I leave my scattered thoughts
to dance with them
and I am left
sitting in harmony
with the world,
sun warming my face.