Chasing the Shifting Shadow

The midday air in the apartment felt dead, so I pushed under the front door, sprinted down the stairwell, and set out into the open neighborhood. Inside a small community garden patch, a circular carved stone sun dial caught my eye from atop a low brick pedestal. I bounded up the mortar seams and landed my talons square onto the weathered slate face. A slender, angled brass triangular gnomon cut straight across the roman numerals, casting a razor-sharp black shadow over the stone. I marched up to the brass edge, squared my chest, and leaned my snout in to inspect the darkened wedge. With a deliberate flick of my fiery tail, I brought a burst of bright embers right alongside the opposite flank. Suddenly, the deep shadow shifted, softening as twin silhouettes crossed under my flare. Hmph. Even sunlight shares the dial when I stand post.