Skylight

[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

Something early hesitates out there,
squares up, shows the roof's weak place.
A thin skin of glass lets in
visible greyness, 4 a.m.,

insists like anything, comes close up
against the guarded dark I slept in,
wins a desk back, table, chairs
from where they went, yet still reserves

something secret as it comes,
formally, in time, to light
dawning squarely like small sums:
a room, a date, a sheet of daylight.

Angela Leighton
Metre
Number 14
Autumn 2003