I stepped around the shadow, singing
'not yet' to the noise
and walked myself back the way I'd come.
In circuits, always climbing back,
sweating in the sun,
I watched that patch of shade:
a cool reward for work well done.
But by the end, and having mowed
the last of unkempt grass
the shadow of the tree had peeled back--
the sun had moved, and dried to dust
my small puddle of shade.
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