Shadow Run

The day, now clearer-skied and cloudy strips cruise in shades of deep dark sapphire and Aegean blues with sweeter shades of cerulean azure oceanic hues; stretching out in yawns across the western horizon as if riding on the surf rise of Poseidon; while in the east, straight up past high noon widening it comes - the rising, glowing creamy coconut balled sun brilliant blinding white ivory yellowed burning rays run, cooled in the breeze yet hot on the skin and face but here, in the garden place beneath the shaded nurtured paths where the maple, sycamore, and oaks holdfast beneath them, the shadows are cast; the leftover morning imagery begins to spill, in scented lilacs, honeysuckle and magnolia fills, soon with perfect time and match birdsong rings from nested eggs that hatch life grateful that winter chill has passed; as spring returns smolder and burns with every flowing ghost of shadows in their turns, they dance, they hide, they glide, life flows in the shadows run.