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Monday, September 26, 2016

Old Photos

Pictures of Rangeley at First Light

That fall day
I rose pre-dawn
and slogged,
through straw grass
at the edge of the lake
thick with ghost trails,
tangled yarn mists.
I focused,
depressed the shutter,
focused again,
it was possible
to catch the swirl,
the held breath,
the call of a loon
across water.
Surely, photos
evoke enough?
Their replay, though
reaches out
with color and light
but absent
the yearning prickle
triggered by the loon,
the curtain of
freshening air,
the speak of sun
mounting camel hills
on its way to sluice
the morning sky.
How, after
my frost-prints
I hiked splintered steps
light with the lift
of benediction.

The porch creaked
when I tiptoed in,
awake, but ready 
to reclaim my space,
to nest under
a wool blanket
and slip into the heat
from the other side.


Alex J. Cavanaugh said...

That was beautiful. And so is the photo.

mshatch said...

Agreed. It must have been a special moment.

Joanne said...

hush........excellent poem and photo. Wow on a Monday

Yvonne Osborne said...

Gorgeous photo with words to match.

Connie said...

That was lovely, Liza. Wonderful poem and such a beautiful and peaceful photo.

Susan Gourley/Kelley said...

You captured the picture with your words as well as with your camera.

Hilary Melton-Butcher said...

Hi Liza - we do remember don't we ... yet the scents and the actual 'cry' can't be fully remembered ... but I love your poem and the essence of those photographic memories ... to remind us of those wonderful moments in life.

Cheers Hilary

Pixel Peeper said...

Seems a camera catches a lot more than just colors and light!

Jennifer Shirk said...

Oh my gosh! You write beautiful poetry. And the picture just envelopes it all.

Jan Morrison said...

You are such a masterful poet! Once again I'm gobsmacked by a poem of yours. And, of course, the photo is fabulous too! Thank you.