Some mornings I take
my everything for
a walk… my shadow is
tall in a sunrise, reaches
to the West, excited and
hopeful for the coming day.

At noon, everything
shrinks inward,
embarrassed in the glare
of noonday sun.
Finding respite in being
very close and small.

And in the sunsetting
evening, rising up
tall and proud, it looks
away, to the East
longing for the day
to continue, to extend life.

At night shadow is of
artificial design, and
schizophrenic. There is
little purpose or direction,
except to wait and hope
for the clarity of day.

Then comes the fog,
which makes everything
hard to  discern,
like a grainy yesterday
photo of forever, found
languishing in a drawer.

Loss comes with the rain,
when the clouds bring
tears to clean the
Earth of shadow. It
can feel as if the Sun of day
may never shine again.

But the rains cannot last,
for the Flowers need the
Sun too, and they are
beautiful and life finds
a way to hold onto its
everything shadow.

For without it, life
is nothing.