this safety of glass

this morning
a dust-white moth
flittered impervious
to improbability
precarious outside the window
twenty-seven floors up
and I, more unsettled than he,
held how quick the rise to love
how equally impervious
and fragile as moths
these improbable elevations
it is nothing less
and it is so much more
than flinging oneself beyond
this safety of glass

© Sarah Whiteley