oh, crude street lamp!
the tinge you cast,
that sickly orange, passed
my shadow. that hue’s clamp
pulled it back til it went last
along the sidewalk. the damp
light forced it to encamp
just under the post.
i look up to nothing kind
but a flickering mind,
in itself too engrossed
to see beyond, behind,
upwards, the skyline coast.
where light is made the most.
but You’re there
even when the fake,
when the imposters make
their fluorescent glare
stronger than i can take,
i trust on nights this fair
that Your light can share.
Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre
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