Tuesday, March 12, 2013

what the camera saw

 in the evening's golden surprise
 between showers, cloudscapes, snowmelt gurgling
the light was long and 
 there was a reminder that this walk 
is now mine alone.
there was a trickster surprise on the roadside, too
left by a border collie with a sense of humor,
not a print, something more present
than absent.
but,
then the geese surprised me
quieter than in fall, but in huge flocks.
later
i went out to listen, flushed a white tail,
but didn't hear
woodcock, peepers.
yet.

15 comments:

  1. breathless, speechless, flooded with the light the golden rosy light, and the flocks returning...Oh. Ah.

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  2. golden sunlight is so enchanting.

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  3. ms and neki, that light was solid like gold and lasted just minutes before it morphed. it was long angled golden amazement, here, then poof! late winter, again.

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  4. Velma, such poetry you see and feel when the awareness of the absence of a presence you've known so long must make you feel like someone else, or yourself in another landscape.
    Beautifully done, as always.

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  5. I love the golden light. It must seem so strange to be walking without the trickster Wendy, and good to be reminded of her and her constancy.

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  6. Great light photo - and shadows - love the balls of color around the sun, too!

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  7. faisal, yes, indeed
    marilla, she was a trickster (that last sign on the roadside) but mostly she took care of me.
    valerie, that light lastes just minutes!
    jude, it was a lovely, lonely walk

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  8. wendy is forever in that walk. missing her terribly.

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  9. that golden glow holds the warmth of friendship and love.

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  10. jean, you seem to hold some of that glow yourself. thank you.

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  11. that liquid sun photo mesmerized me; while the words of the post drew a tear and left me with no proper words.

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  12. Oh my...that long golden light. wow
    Made me think of Robert Frost's words:
    Nature's first green is gold,
    Her hardest hue to hold.
    Her early leaf's a flower;
    But only so an hour.
    Then leaf subsides to leaf.
    So Eden sank to grief,
    So dawn goes down to day.
    Nothing gold can stay.

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  13. jan, no proper words are ok.
    nancy, it's a good poem. the light was good, too

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