Shadows and Light

Who—if not my shadow—
recalls the honeyed light

when the black-dressed sky
scorns even diamond studs?

She asks–says please—
the fiddler plays
to owl-wings’ whispered beat

and then, the moon chimes a lullaby
through prismatic clouds,

while below ghosts dance
in the shadows cast

to vanish with the robin’s chirp
in the dawn’s sharp radish sky.

It took a couple tries with the Oracle. She waited until I was really focusing. 😏