Who knows our curves and swerves,
angles, arcs,
down to our nerves?
The shadow knows.
Who knows our stride, each slip and slide,
but must keep up
tight by our side?
The shadow knows.
Who knows our pounds and rounds,
but vowed to silence
makes no sounds?
The shadow knows.
Who knows to blear, to interfere,
to block the light
its whole career?
The shadow knows.
Once upon a time, dear reader, there was a member of the family known as “the radio.” Look it up. One of its programs was called “The Shadow.” Now even I am not old enough to remember “The Shadow” (though I do remember the radio), but I am indebted to it for its immortal words: “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows.” How awesomely ominous.
(An edit here: after I read Judy’s comment below, I realized that I am more than old enough to remember “The Shadow.” I just don’t. But in the interests of honest blogging I must clarify.)
As you know, dear reader, I have often thanked S.W. Berg, aka Bill, for his wonderful photography. This is Bill. His camera went off without him, in cahoots with his shadow. A nice conspiracy.
