Glass Impact

The laundromat window is too clean today,

reflecting the sky in a dangerous way.

I was thinking of quarters and soap in a cup,

until I saw something that wouldn't get up.

A starling, a smudge, a small heap of ink,

stopped by the glass before it could blink.

Its feet are tiny yellow fists, shut tight,

as if it were trying to punch back the light.

I stepped around it and went through the door,

not wanting to look at the sky anymore.