I cut a path through the long grass billowing
Well off the trail the others had tread
And composed there a scene
Few travellers would see

Footfalls through the dunes
Skies grey as the sand
And blackened monoliths
Tossed about like stones
From a small child’s hand

There, in the buffeting wind
Amidst the storm-sodden grass
Shielding the lens
From the rain and debris
I gathered dim light
Small hope had I
This photo could be…

Worth soggy shoes
And cold, wetted socks
My pants would drip water
Later
When twisted in knots

First, back to the car
All shivering raw
Engine now running
With hands to the heater
Hoping to thaw

Now months and months later
At home nice and warm
Editing photos I took in a storm
To my delight I discover
They came out… alright