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