Planted Firmly

Buildings around me spiral and spin, control lost long ago, but do I care?
They’ve lost their tops; how could they?
Only by reaching too high their fingers faded into the clouds.
And so too, do I.
Only feet planted firmly in rooftop gray keep me pointed toward the moon.
It looms large tonight, an exploring eye checking if I’m awake.
No one tells you why the clouds come, at least no one mentioned it to me. That’s why I’m here.
I know it can’t just be a sky crowded with a galaxy of shimmering droplets.
No, this front has moved with too much purpose, has stayed here for too long.
That must be a requirement now.
To stand still and let the wind blow past.
To let the rain demolish everything but you,
with your umbrella clasped tight, frozen against the tiny tides
breaking against your shore.
To do all this and more, you cannot also drift
from word to breathy word with no purpose.
So plant your toes in the sand, feel pain, as you must,
but at least you know you exist today, right now, while you can.