THE GIANT BROOM

The early sun
makes long tree shadows
that sweep across the frost
that lays upon the lawn.

I see the shadows
as a giant broom
that  sweeps away
the silver from the grass.

And though I know
the frost would melt
without the work of shadows
my mind would rather
play with possibilities
kindled by imagination
than know the scientific reason
for the frost’s demise.

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