My grandkids play a game called "Shadowland,"
a kind of outdoor version of "Floor is Lava."
On a hot sunny day, all shadows and shade
become islands in a dangerous sea.
The object is to run from shadow to shadow
without being eaten by ravenous sun-sharks.
They conjure up dorsal fins slicing imaginary water
behind them, and always make landfall
just in time under a tree, or even, in a pinch,
another person's shadow.
 
I think of this game today while I'm mowing the lawn,
my machine a power boat cutting green waves
from point to point, with shady islands at either end.
I outrun the merciless heat of sun-sharks
every time, sometimes taking an extra minute
before leaving the cool tropical refuge
of these temporary and shifting sanctuaries
where no one gets bitten
and no one gets burned.


© by Bruce W. Niedt.
Used with the author’s permission.