Shadows are Captive

Shadows are captive

Held prisoners of themselves;

Art mimics the truth.

Gray Sky in Woodstock

Gray sky in Woodstock;

Clouds reach down and kiss the earth;

A peaceful mornimg.

Collette's head scratching;

She knows that it feels better;

Every little bit.

Still  they're hanging on

These small fluffy milkweed puffs;

Why don't they let go?

This murmuring water

Says nothing at all, really;

Just keeps whisperiung.

Last rhododednron;

Their season was in the Spring;

Why are they still here?

Carpet of dead leaves

Surrounded by the always green ferns;

Each in their own world.