If doors are locked and windows closed, 
open eyes still see the rain fall 
on something that may or may not 
be out there, where pools of water 
reflect and soften the glare 
of porch lights that do not 
keep out that other darkness 
that fills up everything at noon, 
but some doors have windows 
that frame night’s winter rainfall 
in the absence of everything but 
nothing, and rain drops reflected on 
windows are the tears of the ages, 
yet in remembering someone 
loved, there is the blessing of enough.