the nightingale's sweet revelry
just now begins to fade,
as the glistening of the morning dew
fresh from the evening's shade
reflects a golden sunrise,
a moment gently wrought, where
between the dawn and dusk of day
our shadows may be caught.

the shadow of a flying bird
stirred from it's sleepy nest,
see a hint of red just visible
upon it's feathery breast?
look, a gentle rabbit peeks about
for shadows near his lair.
then steals along the foxes trail
using the utmost care.

worker bees up early cast
a shadow on pink blooms
and carry back the bouquets best
to honeycomb their rooms.
see the child step barefooted
into the dewy green?
he adds a shadow in the dawn
that's small and barely seen.
everything upon this earth
casts its shadow in the light.
the only time our shadows sleep
is in the still of night.

12/29/2001

Posted on 12/29/2001
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith