SHADOWS PASSING BY

Beyond the river

tall  grasses  waving in the wind

picked up the shadow of a bird

moving across the vista

I have seen so many times.

 

I did not see the bird

but tried to find it in the sky

and wondered what I’d see.

 

The shadow left no trace

upon the grass —

no way for one to know

there’d been a creature in the air

progressing by.

 

I’ve seen some lives like this:

leaving nothing when they’re gone —

as if they’d never been.

 

And I am forced to wonder

if the marks I’ve made on earth

have been like shadows passing by.

 

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