PHOTOGRAPHER'S JOURNAL: On NPR this week I learned that migrating song birds, not only travel by night, but that they navigate by the stars.
Aroused,
thrust through dark mud,
tubers,
subterrestrials,
touch and probe
their bottom empire.
Then,
folded and furled,
tucked and pleated,
infant tissues
spiral out,
unfold in spring waters.
Lily pads,
they seem so simple.
Origami nightmare
to put them back,
or redirect
their solar collection.
5 comments:
This strange and beautiful new series for some odd reason brings forth a stirring in the like murky depths of my mind..."My vegetable love should grow vaster than empires, and more slow..."
These photos are a Marvell.
Deborah
Interesting you should mention that, as I have had Marvell's verses running through my mind on a number of hikes lately. Yes, to make time run! Is there a better plan? Then again, I've also been thundering the round earth's imagined corners. When I don't hum, I recite. I certainly don't expect any trumpeting angels.
Hi
Remarkable picture, never thought of doing that.
Thanks for the comment. I've been shooting this pond for awhile, but I never got here so early in the season to see all the lily pads just starting.
Thanks for the comment. I've been shooting this pond for awhile, but I never got here so early in the season to see all the lily pads just starting.
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