A tiny light is kept behind a glass
A shutter swings and squeaks against the wind
The stone is wrapped in vines, and weeds, and rain
At sea, the ships toss and tack, looking out
For light to guide them from the rocks, towards home.
Alone, asleep, the keeper lays, wrapped up
Against the cold, against the storm, eyes tight.
Up the stairs, behind the glass
Shuttered yet warm
The light waits to be tended
Against the storm.