A cold counterpart.

A fleeting outline of itself.

An incomplete sketch, done in darkness.

It is where symmetry stands firm.

And irregularity is washed away like watercolor

In a hurricane.

Realized and then forgotten,

In the same moment,

By the very same architects.

Quicker than a blink.

But slower than a lightning strike.

With more poignancy than an empty vending machine.

Two at a time,

Is how they usually follow.

Carefully positioned over a

Colder shoulder,

These colder shadows.

And even under frequent incubation,

They will indisputably retain they’re glacial glow.

&

All the

Worldly wildlife,

Rife with carbon

(& Such sweet fruit.)

Have these shadows.

(In spades)

And as the raccoon’s playfully sneak up on unsuspecting garbage cans,

And as an inhibited shooting star propels itself through the throws of a

  Spilled-milk-atmosphere.

These relatives have the same shadows.

Even when it’s below freezing.

Even when space is involved.