Two Shadows

The little one belongs to her

and the taller one is mine, though I doubt 

she knows the shadows walking hand

in hand ahead of us in the field

are ours. If I walk behind her, mine,

without a word, overshadows 

all of hers, a magic I think she likes.

And when I walk at her side again,

the two of us return, a giant

and his long-legged little helper,

who’s new enough to walking still

she manages a wobble or swings

a foot in picking the place to put it.

None of this beautiful, secret love

will last. Other shadows will come

along, and she’ll see her own one day

apart from mine. But before those fates

arrive, I’m going to stretch my arms,

and tipping and twirling, I’ll show her how

to turn her shadow into a bird

and rest it softly in the tree,

and afterward, when she sees a shadow, 

perhaps she’ll think of birds or me.

 

Maurice Manning, Snakedoctor (Copper Canyon Press, 2023)