I Miss You

I wrote this somewhere else. Maybe it was a Facebook status. I can't remember . . .

Switching to a quarterly schedule for my literary magazine has not meant less work. It has meant more. It's good though; it's keeping me challenged. 

However, I've had little time for writing poetry. I scribbled the poem below while I was waiting at a red light, watching a group of trees sway in the wind.

Moonlit Shadow

Silhouettes

Shadows of summer
sycamore trees play lonely
game of tag, tap, tapping each
other with wind gustiness,
game of catch, leaves
in flight, waiting, wondering
where your shadow
amuses yourself now
without them, beneath
them, now that they cannot
see you

*****