Shadows trace looming contours
of a winding journey
through the glistening meadows of my heart.
Sweep the dance of darkness about,
in, then out and upward spark,
the broad drooping leaves
in short bands of dotted light.
Out, then in, they begin,
their song a swirl,
teased round jagged thrusts
of balding silhouette.
A sudden quaver,
from stiffness too,
for suppler charms encircled about,
caught momentarily,
then torn apart,
in the thickening meadows
of my heart.

©Nick Zegarac

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