Long Shadows

Before dawn,

in mirrored light but no sun,

she saw the birds leaving.

Going south. Row upon row

in strict cuneal formation.

Or raucous, in cluttered disarray.

Flying low and fading high up in the sky.

Heading out.

Later, running past the cove

in mittens and hat,

she heard them cry:

a nameless feeling of affection and regret.

Only the loons remained.

Old friends.

Their time would come, too.

The time of long shadows.

Michael Campagnoli lives in Rockland. His collection of poetry “Ah-Meddy-Ga” is available from All Nations Press of White Marsh, Va.