A forest

 

 

Respite

 

In the cool deep woods

I meander

Finding spaces

Places where the sun

Creeps in

Inward I ramble

Into the dappled green forest of my mind

Lost in the hum of cicadas

And the trill of unknown birds

Too well hid

The river wanders by me

And I by it

But we can meet only

In the places trees and vines abhor

 

The heron knows

The shadows are best for hunting

Still, she flies eagerly towards the sun.

 

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Words and images are my own.

 

©2018

 

 

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Wildwoods

 

 

Let the record show that the first photograph I ever sold was not this one…

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Nor this one….

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Or even this one.

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It was this image of something all Jersey Shore denizens hold close to their hearts… and other organs.

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I’ll take it.

 

 

All images are mine.

 

©2018

You can’t always get what you want

 

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Strange humilities

 

time carves its grooves

in skin and stone

light falls more harshly

when too many days are gone

dry tears are the salt of this table

dry eyes that see

too clearly

through the blur of resignation

we are grains of grit

in a ceaseless wind

and time laughs at all our expectations

always leaving the party

before the end.

 

 

Words and image are my own.

 

 

©2018