In
winter, in the cold and snow,
the
shadows sneak along the snow banks,
opposite
to the sun, as if seeking shelter
in
fear, detected thus, of their own demise,
the
loss of their unformed grayness
dark
against the white of winter’s snow;
or
the sun streaming in my windows, shadows
drifting
along the far wall, illuminated,
until
they disappear, absorbed, are taken in,
shadows
returned to light.
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