Shadow
I am a shadow of those
Who came before me
Dark with silvery glints
Unexpected bumps on ski
Expand into a frieze around
Societal distances due to secrets
No source of light creates me
My edges are clouds
With no particular shape
Easily passed through
As if flying on a moonless night
High up with little lightning
Grate me into a steel bowl
I will appear and disappear
The tiny fly seen and gone
Continue to look and wonder
Fits those who train themselves
In my artful dreams of shade
Barry G. Wick
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