EARTHBORNE ONLINE POETRY MAGAZINE

THESE ARE THE SHADOW DAYS

 

Paint my eyes in yellow stars and green flashes,

zigzag my life walking near the edge at night.

Crescent moon flashing on the right then the left.

Late December, empty branches,

gray clouds, no snow, Itasca, Illinois -

these are the aging eyes of the shadow days.

A few puddles of rain, textured

with sleet.

Slight breeze, pine trees wiggle,

just enough to juggle outside

Christmas decorations tonight.

I still see these things, peripheral vision,

but I keep looking for the new discoveries.

Is it visual artifacts or faults in my character?

My near blindness of vision leads me to dreams of digital graphics, images, and the sprinkling of holy water.

These my friends are the beginning

of the shadow days.