I found this poem online a while back, and it immediately reminded me of this photo ... the shadow of me and my (then-much-younger) granddaughter Leya many years ago as we watched the famous Pony Swim at Chincoteague Island.
Two Shadows
by Maurice Manning
The little one belongs to her
and the taller one is mine, though I doubt
she knows the shadows walking hand in hand
ahead of us in the field
are ours. If I walk behind her, mine,
without a word, overshadows
all of hers, a magic I think she likes.
And when I walk at her side again,
the two of us return, a giant
and his long-legged little helper,
who's new enough to walking still
she manages a wobble or swings
a foot in picking the place to put it.
None of this beautiful, secret love
will last. Other shadows will come
along, and she'll see her own one day
apart from mine. But before those fates
arrive, I'm going to stretch my arms,
and tipping and twirling, I'll show her how
to turn her shadow into a bird
and rest it softly in the tree,
and afterward, when she sees a shadow,
perhaps she'll think of birds or me.
My shadow is diminished, while those of my children and grandchildren grow. Give them your love and enjoy theirs while you can. And be sure to stay in the shade as much as possible on this devastatingly hot weekend.
Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
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