Shapes on the Wall

Stepping out onto the wooden patio, the low morning sun caught me from behind. On the pale siding of the wall, a long, dark shape stretched out, mimicking every tilt of my shoulders. My fingers parted with a tiny clink, and on the wood, the sharp silhouettes flared like spread wings. I hesitated, then carefully angled my wrists. When I parted two blades slowly, their shadows crossed and opened like the beak of a quiet bird. I lowered myself slightly, tilting my hands this way and that, watching the dark lines dance across the bright cedar grain without making a sound.