It flicks its fingers at the edge of my vision
Pulling its cloak quick over my face
To grey my view of everything I rise to meet.
I claw the cloak away, but threads always remain.
I can’t see them until I take a good look,
And by then, the shadow itself has returned to repeat the process.
It’s made a mistake this time.
This time I step forward to greet it,
And with me I bring the flares of the sun.