5 O’clock Dark

Heading home, Friday last,
I passed the Salvation Army and
the street lamps did me the honour
of multiplying my shadow leaving me
variously iterated in black:
here short and squat, like a puddle at feet
there long, lean and sliding across the street
but ahead just right, properly proportioned
and cutting a sweet angle a little left of centre,
slightly smug until an ambulance navigating the traffic
rendered me red on Sally Ann’s wall –
each shadow dancing a life under
the aegis of an emergency’s brief
incursion – after which I stepped
off the curb and slipped across
the street into a stretch
of easy dark.

12 thoughts on “5 O’clock Dark

  1. dianerivers says:

    You really have the gift of paying attention and capturing what is often missed. Even the “stretch of easy dark” is worth noting, since I don’t often think of dark as easy. This is lovely.

  2. shoreacres says:

    It’s true, isn’t it? When we step into the dark, all that has been shadowing us, disappears. The only other time that happens is at high noon, when the overhead sun puts an end to shadows. Shadows only exist in the in-between times — and they’re never perfect representations of who we are.

  3. jannatwrites says:

    Shadows do seem to play tricks and take on lives of their own. I like your poetic description of this brief moment from your journey home.

  4. diannegray says:

    I could ‘see’ this poem, Allen. You certainly have a gift to take us where you have been 🙂

  5. Excellent ending, A. Merry Christmas!

  6. Mary says:

    thank you for taking us along this interchange with shadows. lovely.

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