Shadows – always the shadows!
Do I seek them,
or they seek me?
They cast their imagination across drooping ribbon bark.
soft, dark, black, grey.
Icy fingers creeping- threatening – dark and cold.
Soft cooling hands caressing – inviting – soft and still.
Rich and green in damp gullies.
Ashen and ochre on golden sand.
Are they storytellers or just echoes?
Do they promise or remind?
But why, oh why can’t I catch them,
and why do I keep trying?
Words, paints, pencils, photos
to no avail!
They dance, then disappear.
And I am alone again,