Dick Davis

1945 / Portsmouth

Shadows

The sun comes up, and soon
The night’s thin fall of snow
Fades from the grass as if
It could not wait to go.

But look, a lank line lingers
Beyond the lawn’s one tree,
Safe in its shadow still,
Held momentarily.

Delighted my daughter runs
Twisting from my embrace
To touch the fragile snow
Before it leaves no trace.
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