Feb 23, an off-day hush in the gym,
just the thud of a ball and a soft net sigh;
the calendar leaves a blank line to breathe,
a pause between one game’s heat and the next dawn.

Dillon Brooks mends a fractured hand,
Devin Booker rests a strained hip in patience;
Grayson Allen’s knee, Goodwin’s calf, Highsmith’s knee—
small storms that thin the bench to a bright wire.

So Collin Gillespie steadies the tempo,
Jalen Green hunts lanes where the light opens;
the second unit turns into a forge,
and every drill is a promise we keep.

We gather the injuries like kindling,
but the fire chooses to rise again;
short-handed, the Suns keep their shape,
turning tomorrow into a clearer word,
a sunrise spelled in sweat and surprise.