The October sky opens
on various shades of blue
cut through with water
in the east window
and to the west
the gut dry desert,
The open plains
A leaking roof
adds worry to the mix of light
reflections in a mirror
shape bleeding greys to rise
it is 7 am
mid month en route to winter
A slow brightness rises
A vague window shape on the wall
jars the memory
of when, months ago
a flooding light trail
entered and snaked across the room
The turning world
hurtling through space
disturbs not the gliding seagull outside
nor the static writing in here
Lynn-Marie Harper.
