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Shadow Selfie, U.S. Highway 50, Lincoln Highway, Loneliest Road in America, East of Eureka, Nevada, USA

Shadow Selfie

I have to admit there are an overabundance of road pics in my catalogue, photographs in which various streets, highways, byways and gravel tracks from my travels serve as the primary subject of a landscape. Mind you, I’m not apologizing for that.¬† We photograph and write about what we know and love, and I love few things more than being behind the wheel of a car (or pedaling a bicycle) through unknown country. Over 40+ years of driving and cycling I’ve amassed several hundreds of thousands of miles wheeling on just about every road surface imaginable.

Safe to say, I know roads.

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Rain Abated, Cannon Beach, Oregon, United States of America

Stormy Solitude

Rain abated
Dimpled sand dries in Rorschach patches
Sky a mottled grey
A single darkened cloud
Mimics patterns in the sand

Some might wish for the sun
To feel the heat on their skin
Or rising from the scalding sand
Secure in the haven of a beach towel
Beneath an umbrella in a sea of beachgoers

But I prefer this solitude
Shared only with the rumbling surf
And the gull idling by
On the penetrating wind
Which tousles my knotting hair

Draw my windbreaker tight against the insistent chill
Rub some warmth into my thighs through the denim
All the while  engaging the impression
That I have this spectacular planet
All to myself

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Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach, Oregon, United States of America

Surf Song

With gentle insistence
The ocean rises up to greet me
And I, pant legs rolled to my calves
Welcome it’s cool, frothy embrace
Enjoy the caress of water over my ankles
The sensation of sinking into the sand
As the receding wave draws the beach
From beneath my feet

I stay there for an hour or so
Take a few steps back
When the waves threaten my trousers
A few steps forward
When they fail to reach me
My sandpiper dance
In time with the surf song
And its choir of gulls

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The World Comes Apart, Cannon Beach, Oregon, United States of America

Ashore

The world comes apart a little
As I drag myself up onto the shore
Desperate to make the high tide line
Before exhaustion consumes my consciousness
Which seems already sparsely rational

The flood tide saved me
Put land within my reach
But while the Moon is a compassionate Goddess
The Sea Lord is greedy
And eagerly awaits Her waning influence
To drag me back to His depths

Hand over hand I crawl
Wet sand beneath my nails
Sodden clothes a sullen weight
Every laboured breath sputters salt water
Until my eyes roll back
With a final thought

I hope this is far enough

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Waiting, Taken from a moving taxi, Jakarta, Java, Indonesia

Waiting ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #330

In a moment of sizzle
Humming fan blades
And the thrum of traffic

She waited
For some tasty tidbit
I couldn’t make out from the taxi

She thought about yesterday
And tomorrow
Last week and next month

She thought about everything
But this moment
And the tasty thing sizzling

Or the next moment
When the tasty thing would mercilessly
Burn her tongue oh so deliciously

But…

Who’s to say any of this is true?
I was just a photographer living in the frame
Capturing serendipitous moments from a moving taxi

And now I’m just a poet
Listening to the words as they come
Trying to give them their moment

So all of it is fiction
Or maybe some of it is the truth
Though, hopefully

I’ve created something
Which at least
Speaks truly

Even if
It only speaks truly
About the act of creation

Or maybe, the story
Is just saying something truthful
About the creator