Long Shadow
Crossing from a chore as the day
was packing it in, I saw my long shadow
walking before me, carrying in the tilt
of its thin head autumnal news,
news broadcast red from the woods to the west,
goldleaf woods of thinning branch and days
drawing in like a purse being cinched,
the wintry houses sealed and welcoming.
Why do we love them, these last days of something
like summer, our freedom to move in few clothes
though frost has flattened the morning grass?
Because they tell us we live forever. Stretched
like a rainbow across day's end, my shadow
makes a path from my feet. I am my path.