Light in the Hallway
A single light hangs in the hallway.
Not bright. Not exactly.
Enough to prevent stumbling in the night.
Enough to brighten your eye in the day.
Mostly, it hangs still,
but on stormy days,
when the wind howls through the quarry,
it rocks, casting swinging shadows on the wall.
But still. There is light.
No matter the hour, enough.
About this poem.
The picture was taken at the nearby Dorset Inn, in a back hallway. As far as I know, the light is always on. So the poem is about that light, and about faith and love.