The only shadow work I want to talk about…

 The only shadow work I want to talk about,

are the silhouettes of leaves that dance on the fence;

how their show is free for all to enjoy and all are welcome, here.

Usher in, all; to witness that which never repeats itself twice, though shows itself each day.

These shadows remind me that the Earth which supports us is a reflection of the sky which carries us. 

I feel the blush of my sun-kissed shoulder blades, I stretch out my arms and see below me 

a silhouette with snow angel wings on the late July ground.

In the distance,

the rhythmic sound of mowing grass, the music of Thursday mornings;

the mechanic, razor-sharp hum of blades spinning.

The time is 10:30 am, the wasps return for their brunch time debauchery, feasting on aphids in my garden; 

I bring my work inside, 

as I close the sliding porch door I nod my head in recognition that wasps are worker bees, too.