A description of what started this particular blog can be found in its first entry --Feb. 9, 2009. It's about healing.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Portrait At Prospect Point
At cascade edges, silent Mist is born in roars. Silent light pours into Silver salts in albumin. Then eyes arrayed on Ledges see and --in Lenses trained across Time-- so do we .
I love how you write silent mist is born in roars. Made my day. I am not very good with grammer and all, but the contrast of silence and roaring is amazing.
(Also, I hope Norma reads your posts and the appreciative comments people make. If not, tell her her photos are well loved)
I love how you write silent mist is born in roars. Made my day. I am not very good with grammer and all, but the contrast of silence and roaring is amazing.
ReplyDelete(Also, I hope Norma reads your posts and the appreciative comments people make. If not, tell her her photos are well loved)
KK, I wish I had your skill with languages, and yes I will relay your fine compliment to Norma.
DeleteThis is amazing....thank you so much for sharing.
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure, Linda, and my privilege.
DeleteThere is nothing quite like the mist from a roaring waterfall. You describe it so well.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Emma. There's a magic in mist over falls.
DeleteOh to have the ability to step into that magical mist...perhaps another world exists in there...;)
ReplyDeleteOh this is wonderful! :))
Thanks, Ygraine. Sometimes in fog we can feel other places, other times.
DeleteSurely there is mystery in mist. Sometimes we do get lost in the moment ans sometimes we go beyond and back. Your poem makes one understand.
ReplyDeleteKind Munir, mist can take us where time is incidental without moving us at all.
Delete