Is At Hand...

Is At Hand…

I search photos for the poetic

While sitting in the midst of the birds’ chorus

Outside in the midst of the green, the trees

Bees are buzzing about wintertime dreams

We all know that the universe is poetry

Held together by rhyme and rhythm

Mystery and surprises

Exfoliating the old, always birthing the new

Resting on blades of grass is the morning dew

Reflections of majesty

For those willing to get close to the ground and see

For those willing to look away from the image

To embrace the real

The real must be now more surreal

Just like the reflections in the droplet of water

Wider, taller, movement in stasis

Smaller, purer, found in ecstasies

It is amazing how the living long for stillness

While the dead walk right by life

I search the photos for the meaning of the poetic

While sitting in the midst of the birds

Singing their dreams

K, Duane Carter 3-19-11