They call this “golden hour”
But every hour spent with you
Is golden
Tag: photography
Risen
The grasses and shrubs bow and flutter
On a windswept fen
Long Range Mountains leap from the plain
Testament to the crushing power of colliding continents
And I am reminded
Of a small boy
Heart rent through and through
By harsh words and hard gestures
It’s alright, boy
You bent like the grass
And rose up like the mountains
There is no small beauty in that
Moon Rise
The sun bid good night
The moon rubbed sleep from her eyes
“Woo hooo!!! Let’s party!”
The Bend
Big bend in the river comin’ up!
No idea what’s around it
Can’t even see the turn all that clear
Or what’s just ahead fer that matter
No matter
We done plenty a these
Always works out
Usually fer the better
I suppose there’ll be
Remarkable new things to discover
Around that corner
All kinds of possibilities
Don’t worry none about the fog
Things’ll be clear enough once we get close
Just the way the corner up ahead
Is gettin’ clear enough to know the turn
Kinda pretty idn’t it?
The way the fog only gives ya part a the picture
Then just the green
Then trees and the cracks in rocky cliffs
Ya only get enough to know how to move on
With some foreshadowin’
Of just how beautiful it’s gonna be
When it all becomes clear
The Enormity of a Sunset
Nothing reminds me
Of just how small a speck I am
In this universe
Than being in an expansive landscape
At golden hour
I sit with that
Groove on my insignificance
Feel community
With all the other insignificant things
I share existence with
The rock I’m sitting on
The trees and shrubs around me
The wildflower eking out a life
In a crack of the craggy cliff face
Each ephemeral wave breaking on the shore
We’re all here
For the briefest glimmer of time
Even the half billion year-old rock
I’m sitting on
The tiniest things in the tiniest time
Because what is any one thing
No matter how large
Or how old
When measured against
The infinite eternal
But here I am
For the briefest slice of a moment
In this miniscule scene
Of a star setting over a planet’s horizon
Feeling connected to all of it
And for that moment
I am not just a part of it all
But filled with it all
Expanding until I am as vast and timeless
As the universe
.
.
.
.
.
Then the sun sets
I go back to the car
And tow my little trailer
To some nice little spot
To camp for the night
Apparently
Even enormity
Is ephemeral
But the memory of it
Lasts a lifetime
That Little Sparkle of Hope
He saw change coming
Had to come
Life altering change
Had to be
He’d come to a cul de sac
Every step now
Just circled the perimeter
But what next?
What path led forward?
He had no idea
All he had
Was a little sparkle
Of hope
Enough for the confidence
To step out of the circle
Scraped Clean
The way life clung
To the cracks and crevices
Of the hard rock cliffs
Fascinated him
He imagined it
Like the bottom trawlers
That once dragged The Banks
For cod and haddock
Rather than nets, though
It was glaciers that scraped
The cliff face smooth
Erasing all signs of life
It took thousands of years
Of time and erosion
For life to eek out
This small foothold
His grandfather used to tell him
About throwing a bucket
Over the side
And cod would fill it up
When they closed the cod fishery
It was like another ice age
Swept across Newfoundland
Few fishers survived it
He imagined the ocean floor
Scraped clean by the trawlers
And wondered how long
Before the cod came back
grey ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #346
“Too bad about the weather,” she says
I’m framing a photograph
Camera in hand though not to eye, just yet
“Yesterday was perfect
Bright and sunny
Not a cloud in the sky”
I like today just fine, I tell her
As a frame begins to form in my mind’s eye
“But it’s so dismal and grey!”
Blue skies at noon
Are a bright, empty smile
She looks at me, head tilted
It’s a sky without character, mood
The light falls straight down, casts no shadows
Still the look
It’s dull
“You prefer dour to dull?”
I do
“Perhaps that says more about you.”
I smile, and nod
Half because, perhaps, she’s right
And half because I’ve found the frame
Camera to eye … click
I show her the screen
“Oh! That’s beautiful!”
Imperfect Hopes
He woke
Later than intended
Sunlight streamed
Through the trailer window
Rising
He pulled his boots
Over his socks
And clambered out
From the cliff edge
He saw most boats
Were still in the harbour
“That’s good,” he thought
He rushed back into the trailer
Pulled his pants on over the boots
Grabbed the bag with his gear
Made sure the trailer was secure
In the truck
He hoped for the worst
For some other bloke
So there’d be an open spot on a boat
It wasn’t a hope
He liked to hope
But he needed the work
And someone else had to lose out
It was either that
Or over to the cafe
And then the pub
To nurse whatever drink was before him
There was barely enough money for that
But even less to make the trailer
A place he wanted to spend
Any more than a restless night in
Perfect Light
Every now and again
Nature conspires with time
To create moments
Of utter perfection
While I am graced
With permission
Not only to witness
But record
Pix to Words 