Shadows
Evenings are best for shadows
Stretching from the field
To the horse fence.
I’m tempted to join them
For the walk
Now that the evening wind has died.
But I’m not walking tonight.
Tomorrow perhaps.
With Heath, my oldest dog.
We’ll both wobble through wet grass
Like the two old men
That we are.
Both with a mixture of pain and joy
But only me
With the knowledge of old age.
It would be better to be like him
Aware only of the moment
Crossing the fields towards the still sunlight trees.
Copyright © Richard Jordan | Year Posted 2022
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