Rain on the Skylight
It’s weird, lying here, looking up
Rain dropping from thousands of feet above me;
Pelting down, reaching terminal velocity
Splattering against the plexiglass a few feet from my face.
I wish all roofs were clear and you could see
Through and straight on up into the sky.
Skylights are stingy and even on a clear day or night
They only grant your eyes a narrow view of heaven.
By day the shafts of sunlight in neat rectangles
Track across the carpet, reminding me,
That time is passing and I should be
Out the kitchen door to join the open spaces.
At night, I have to shift myself about the darkened room
To keep my eye upon the scarred moon’s face as it sails by
overhead,
Peering down through the plastic as it passes, yet,
Ignoring me altogether, accompanied by the stars.
Because I cannot live outside these days,
I must content myself with my little windows
And the narrow piece of sky it grants to me for comfort
And the wider peace of heart it nurtures in my soul.
© 2016 by Tom King
