Saturday, March 19, 2011

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

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