In this light the shadows
walk away from me
then turn back,
after I’ve gone.
I don’t look my years
out here in the dark.
The trees lie on the floor
before jumping up
as if they don’t want me
to know they sleep
lying down.
The colour has been sucked
away by the sun
leaving cloaks to wear
and hoods to pull up.
In this light the shadows
walk away from me.
I take a glowing nozzle
in my hand, entering each patch
to see what I’ve known
is now gone.