Time of the Long Shadows

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

Originally published by Alsop Review