The warm, swollen sun dipped gently below the far off horizon. Man began his nightly rituals in preparation for the long sleep ahead and gradually the world tucked itself cozily into bed. And then it was the shadows turn to play.
In daylight, where light rules with iron shackles, the shadow is prisoner to the harsh glare of the sun, but at night the shadows are king. Soft starlight illuminates their nightly dance. Long, transparent limbs swing freely through the crisp night air while the crickets sing their earthy tune.
These nocturnal denizens give themselves over to the freedom of dark and slowly, as the sun begins to rise, they return to their places. The light once more binding them to the mundane things of life. They wait silently for the moon. Their silvery revels the stuff of dreams.
1 comment:
Delightful tale; would make a clever children's story, perhaps.
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