Tonight I chased my shadow
stretching
leaning throttle-wide
down the open Vasey Road
with the sun hanging on behind
in windblown envy.
I smelled the cattle before
I saw them, white and brown
begrudgingly single-filing
heads down and muttering
towards the inevitable barn.
I heard the geese before
they
crested the trees in a loose line
their far eyes intent upon the waiting marsh
and a night of folded wings before taking
again to air.
I felt the way the right
wrist
as if to say, there’s always more to give
turns further around and back towards the heart
as you enter the fragrant eclipse
of the dim cedar swamp
and then re-emerge as
brilliance
where the way begins to climb and wind
where if you turn to look over your left shoulder
across the tender hymn of fields and woods and water
you’ll rejoice: what a good long way you have come!
