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.
Copyright © DM Babbit | Year Posted 2021
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