The Dead

The dead are always looking down on us, they say. 
While we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich, 
they are looking down 
through the glass bottom boats of heaven 
as they row themselves slowly through eternity.  
They watch the tops of our heads 
moving below on earth, 
and when we lie down in a field 
or on a couch, 
drugged perhaps by the hum of a long afternoon, 
they think we are looking back at them, 
which makes them lift their oars and fall silent and wait, 
like parents, 
for us to close our eyes.




 Billy Collins.

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