Shadows to Shade

The morning air, crystalline and pristine,
Dances with shadows as crisp and sharp
As stainless steel honed to perfection...

Shadowy fingers of midnight blue,
Thrust across the landscape
With ethereal grace and precision.

Shadows slicing the cool kisses of mist,
Laced with sunlight’s caress,
Slashing through my sensuous being
With each flickering whip
Of the cool morning air.

Shadows singing in silent whispers,
Giving praise to the morning sun;
A liturgy of voice in communion
With this orb of golden glow
Rising high onto its vaulted zenith,

Until morning's umbra acquiesce
Into the languid shade
Of mid-afternoon...

© 1996 Jim Cain