The glowing spindles outside the window are winter branches caught up in the sun’s contours. A pre-regrowth, a naked redo made without a choice, kick-started by the sun. Gangly arms, core roots drink the carbon dioxide. Leaves spill oxygen alongside belching cars and machine-packed warehouses. Thank Whatever I quit smoking, the months I’ve sweated inside my lungs on treadmills stacked in factories with windows. Kathryn V. Jacopi is a writer and educator with an MS in special education and an MFA in creative writing. Her writings have appeared in Pudding Magazine, Statorec, Fjord, Cleaver Magazine, Manzano Mountain Review, Drunk Monkeys and other publications. Her poems are forthcoming with The Awakenings Review. When she’s not reading, writing, or lesson planning, Kathryn is kayaking and photographing Connecticut shoreline birds.