Sitting on the balcony looking out at Tampa Bay
I watch the day progress in shadows.
Early morning, I see the sun rise in the east,
shadows cast by the balcony banister
run west across the terra-cotta deck,
crossing the tiles at oblique angles.
At ten the precise lines of absence
parallel the lines between the tiles.
After noon, with the sun apparently circling south,
twin shadows run north paralleling the tiles,
then cast acute, then obtuse angles on the stone,
as retreating sunlight slowly becomes
the remains of another disappearing day.
At night, the earth casts an immense shadow
over what had been Tuesday, and the moon,
taking full advantage of the sun’s retreat,
joins in the lesser light and shadow play.