Shadows

The shadows are long

as they stretch across my porch.

It is early morning and the creatures of the day

are just emerging from their night of rest.

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A strand of silk hangs from a tree,

the work of a spider from the night just past.

The strand sways gently on the soft winds of dawn,

its shadow barely perceptible on the floor below.

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Other shadows,

more robust than that of the silk,

are there as well

all boldly stretched across my porch.

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As the sun begins its journey across the sky

the shadows follow,

so slowly as if standing still,

yet ever shortening as the sun moves toward its zenith.

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Here the shadows seem to pause for a moment

before continuing their journey across my porch.

Then, as the sun moves beyond the edge of the earth,

the shadows fade and disappear.

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I do not know where the shadows go

but surely they must still be there, somewhere,

waiting patiently for a new day to dawn

and for their slow walk across my porch.  q