Shadow Walk
There is a clicking
somewhere off in the distant shadows
where the winds blow restless
in some despairing lonesome cry;
overhead a jet plane roars within the stream
disturbing the air of its thick clouds
revealing darkening blue above the white billows
and here in the fading garden paths
bees and hornets grow tired of changing weather patterns;
brilliant sun lights the shadows that walk
beneath the maple and mighty oaks
shedding multicolored leaves
turning dried brittle brown blankets;
November glistens beneath the sun
the air crisp, clean, refreshingly cold
awakening the soul to time changing
moving forward ever back
never standing still;
the seasons writhe in light and dark
blending sun and moon, day and night,
and safely hidden in the blustery upheaval breaths
the ghostly shadows walk.
Copyright © Dm Babbit | Year Posted 2021
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