mr. booth

there's a light,
in the skylight, past the sloughing of
the rain;

there's a light,
flashing over the brook, at the wide
window that bears witness to —

there's a light,
it flickers a thousand times a second,
or so, but my eyes understand;

there's a light,
in that boy's eyes, when he secures
himself in that man's arms —

but there's also a light
in the man's eyes, because
with that boy, he, too, is secure.