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Thursday, October 30, 2008

When shadows move

This poem was inspired by a very brief incident. Staring out into my apartment building's courtyard, I saw the dancing shadows of leaves on branches moved by the wind. It looked to me like rows of hands clapping. I struggled a bit trying to capture it in verse -- a fact due either to a bit of rust or my current dark mood.

My shadow leaves
By Francis Scudellari

My shadow leaves
A frayed, feathered dying
Cast against facing brick

Layered shapes lit
By the down-slanted rays
Of west-directed sun

Blurring movements
Conducted by branches
Not far, but beyond view

The wind-tossed shake,
Shimmer, a rise and fall
Of one-hundred paired hands

All applauding
Re-told dramas un-scened
Nature's final curtain

Drawn close, thick folds
Tinged orange-yellow sad
In autumn's fading light
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