The Grammar of Penumbra

It is not absence that the sun has negated,
nor merely a border ’tween light and shade.
It is the form that passing time has drawn,
a pattern in perpetual station.

On profiles that the daylight shapes,
it spreads, it curves, it fractures.
Without weight, a flowing shape appears,
forging borders that are unseen and sheer.

No purpose guides it or compels its way,
it knows neither ambition nor delay.
Only the sun’s slow passage paints its hue,
a fabric woven by the light anew.