Of shadows spilling down hills

Of where the shadows formed in the wild moon,
chance being at one
after the sun threw a brown penny’s worth of light,
although it thought
the night had fallen without a sound within; but
the moon walked the
grass where the sun had lain, and the moonlight
grew wider every
minute, and the oil and wick of clouds dimmed;
and the ragged wood
was painted with the silver moon paint from
whence the shadows
formed, unshapely things spilling down hills
splashing the mould
of dawn- dew ever drowning, yet the sun may learn
(lifting its delicate feet).

Copyright © 08/11/2016 lance sheridan®



5 comments on “Of shadows spilling down hills

  1. rabirius says:

    You manage to infuse something somewhat sinister in the most beautiful images.
    I really like that about your poems.

  2. Barbara says:

    Lance you’ve captured this photo exactly – the descriptive images jump out to kiss this readers eyes allowing her to see the beauty in this poem – it’s beautiful & profound!!

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