Chasing Shadows
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A brass sundial awaits
Sol's kiss, of glistening gold.
And aligned with the North Star;
its gnomon stabs at the cold.
Tarnished and weather-beaten;
it waits for Sol to come back.
Standing in pools of darkness;
dripping drops of liquid-black.
Sol soon crests the horizon,
finally free from Night's clutch.
And sunlight strikes the dial;
gilding its face with its touch.
Time gets tethered to its face;
and is subject to its whim.
And silently creeps along;
chasing shadows at its rim.
It radiates like magic,
with a luminescent glow.
And denotes the time of day;
as the sun casts its shadow.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2016
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