The End of Days

You stay in this room long enough,
And you begin to understand—
It’s not you who steps in and out
Of a sunlit room. It’s the sun.

Keep the lamps to a minimum.
Electricity is lovely
In those hours you really crave it,
But it’s more fun to watch the sun,

The way the light wanders around,
Musing on the floors and ceiling,
Taking the long way to arrive
Roundabout from the moon.

At evening you try to hold on,
Especially in sunny months,
To watch the whole procedure fade,
To be there for the end of day.