Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic
Photography Without Rules
if it’s just about the photography experience
It rained again last night
And this morning
Uneventful for many
But in this dry place
Where we have starved
For the love of water
We jump out of sheer joy
Others we know
Far from here
Not too far from here
Have seen too much
Thus it is
And will always be
Water’s hand
A photo of my wife, just below Bridal Falls – Yosemite Valley.
She orders me not to post photographs of her on the web. I don’t think this one counts.
Not too much longer now
They will leave this place
For northern climes
This May has been extraordinarily busy for me. I made only my second entry of photographic work for the month last night.
That will change, like the coming and going of the swallows.
After a few hectic weeks, it felt good to let the sound of the river cover me while I mused at the whimsy of these little birds.
It’s a simple longing
That makes me wait
Here by the water’s edge
It coolness
Rises up softly
Bathes me in anticipation
By the moon
We will meet
Its reflected glory
Casting cares away
As seeds
Of the dandelion
Carry the words
Of innumerable souls
Across the valley
Onto the mountain tops
The plankton
Of solid terrain
Move across my face
Its creases
Your intimate friend
I know you love me
Your cool hands
Penetrate my coat
And cover me
With stories
From other lands
Walking away from expectations
Into nature’s wooded balm
She holds me up, without grip
Tells me to stop a moment
And listen
Symphonic voices
Call my name
From within places unseen
Songs of joy
Reminding me
Of the splendors I’ve missed that day
I send a whistle
And all songs are silenced
There, just beyond the thicket
A choral member
Jumps to within view
Then another.
Eyes meet briefly
The chorus resumes
And I become a believer
The song of a single bird
Is more worthy
Than a room full of gold
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 