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Time of the Long Shadows by Dianne Thomas August air thick enough to drink surrounds us as we sit in the sun waiting for the distant shadows to overtake us We cool ourselves with lemonade and fan our faces aware that just behind us our own shadows fall across the grass Not caring if we notice them they mock our gestures exaggerating every motion in a grotesque ballet The sun burns on and we begin to melt Our shadows deepen looking less and less like us and more like clouds of living darkness that spread across the landscape moving with us as we move growing longer while we wait © Dianne Thomas « Home | Contributor Notes » |
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