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 .


10 comments:

  1. 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)

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    1. KK, I wish I had your skill with languages, and yes I will relay your fine compliment to Norma.

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  2. This is amazing....thank you so much for sharing.

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    1. My pleasure, Linda, and my privilege.

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  3. There is nothing quite like the mist from a roaring waterfall. You describe it so well.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks, Emma. There's a magic in mist over falls.

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  4. Oh to have the ability to step into that magical mist...perhaps another world exists in there...;)
    Oh this is wonderful! :))

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    1. Thanks, Ygraine. Sometimes in fog we can feel other places, other times.

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  5. Surely 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.

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    1. Kind Munir, mist can take us where time is incidental without moving us at all.

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