Jan 022016
 

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste it, to experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
~Eleanor Roosevelt

Happy New Year everyone!

Happy 2016! May yours be filled with many new and rich experiences! Me celebrating reaching mile 125 on Lake Powell this past November. Photograph courtesy of Jacque Miniuk

During my blissful month-long break from the social media world following our harrowing, but completely amazing Lake Powell paddling adventure, I have enjoyed ample time to reflect on the many highlights—and a few challenges—that transpired over the past year in both my personal and professional life.  (The time also enabled me to write over 34,000 words for the adventure travel book I wish to publish encapsulating the exhilarating experience and profound life lessons I took away from our trip…and I still have about 50 pages of handwritten notes to transcribe!  I digress…)

In 2015, I celebrated my 8th year as a full-time freelance outdoor photographer/writer and relished many professional highlights, including but not limited to:

  • Released the expanded second edition of Wild in Arizona: Photographing Arizona’s Wildflowers book, which then won three categories in the 2015 New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards: Best Travel Book, Best Crafts/Hobby/How-to Book, and the prestigious Best Book on Arizona.
  • Published my first photography instructional eBook, Seeing the Light in Outdoor Photography
  • Reached over $1,600 in donations from the sale of Photographing Acadia National Park to the Schoodic Institute/Acadia National Park to help support the Schoodic Education Adventure program.
  • Worked with a whole host of dear friends and new people in various photography workshops and camera club presentations across the U.S.
  • Received the OWAA Outstanding Board Member award for the second year in a row.
  • Introduced my poetry to the public via my blog.

Of maybe even importance to me, I had some of the most memorable experiences with my family and fabulous friends to date.  Moments like these (and too many others to list) certainly enriched my life this year:

  • Camping beneath the stars atop Hunts Mesa on the Arizona Highways Photo Workshops (AHPW) “Women’s Photo Retreat.”
  • Getting the entire campground at City of Rocks National Reserve to howl with the coyotes.
  • Camping and hiking around Lee’s Ferry with my parents during a spectacular wildflower bloom in the high desert.
  • Listening to a thunderstorm pass while taking refuge in an alcove covered in ancient rock art.
  • Staying up all night with my OWAA friends at the annual conference in Knoxville, Tennessee.
  • Taking Lava, my favorite Denali National Park sled dog, on walks while visiting my awesome friends in the park.
  • Swinging on an outdoor swing with my friends in Kananaskis Country in Alberta, Canada.
  • Outrunning waves on the beach with my AHPW Oregon workshop participants.
  • High-fiving my brother while catching arctic grayling.
  • Discovering beautiful new locations in Acadia, thanks to my local buddy.
  • Playing poker with one of my best buds while camping in a snowstorm.
  • Paddling 40 incredible miles on Lake Powell with my mom.

In this vein, last year, I became much more connected with the experience of making photographs and appreciated the immense joy I found in the little (and big) things while exploring my favorite locations and seeing new ones.  In honor of a wild 2015, I would like to share my favorite 16 photographs created last year.  Here goes, in chronological order:

 1.  “Sunset Serenade at Watson Lake,” Prescott, Arizona (January 23, 2015)
Before leading an Arizona Highways Photography Workshops at Watson Lake, I managed to sneak in a free day of my own photography.  The view – and Arizona’s gorgeous sunset – didn’t disappoint.  Read more about this image on my “Making the Image: Sunset Serenade at Watson Lake” blog post

Sunset Serenade at Watson Lake

“Sunset Serenade at Watson Lake” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order yours!)

 

2.  “The Stone Butterfly,” Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada (February 17, 2015)
To see more photos from this geologically-fascinating place and hear some thoughts I had about photographing iconic places while visiting this park in February, visit my previous blog post “Icon (or Icon-not) Photograph the Icons in Valley of Fire”.

The Stone Butterfly

“The Stone Butterfly” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order!)

 

3.  “Underneath It All,” Carl Washburne State Park Oregon (May 14, 2015)
Carl Washburne State Park has become one of my photographic “homes,” a completely nondescript location that speaks to me.  Even though I live in Arizona, I try to make it up to the mid-Oregon coast at least once or twice a year for extended stays to explore this lovely stretch of beach.  It changes constantly and I love seeing the surprises it offers, like these wind-sculpted dried sand patterns beneath the sand dunes.

Underneath It All

“Underneath It All” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order!)

4. “On Becoming a Wave,” Cannon Beach, Oregon (May 22, 2015)
As those who join me on my workshops know, I very rarely pick up a camera while I teach (so as to focus on the participants’ needs and growth).  On the AHPW Oregon Sampler workshop, though, I carried my camera on our final sunrise shoot at picturesque Cannon Beach and ended up using it to help demonstrate how to get engaged with your subject so much so that you pretend that you are that subject.  In this case, several in the workshop group became a wave with me as they reached the beach.  The experience was so meaningful to me, I ended up taking home this image and later writing a poem about it–which you can read more about on my blog post “Making the Image and Poem: On Becoming a Wave.”

On Becoming a Wave

“On Becoming a Wave” (Prints available – click on photo to order!)

 

5.  “Frozen in Time,” Matanuska Glacier, Alaska (June 4, 2015)
When I stepped off the plane in Anchorage, Alaska to visit my friends, Jen and Michael, Jen surprised me and drove me straight to the Matanuska Glacier (given my love of ice, how nice was that?!).  I think I walked maybe 100 yards from the parking area before I completely lost my marbles upon seeing the most intriguing ice mud I’d ever seen.

Frozen in Time

“Frozen in Time” (Prints available – click on photo to order!)

 

6. “On the Edge,” Mistaya Canyon, Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada
While spending time with good friends, we made an impromptu stop at Mistaya Canyon.  I wasn’t initially feeling inspired to make a photograph at this popular tourist location until I sat and watched this tree watch the river rage by it.  By studying it, I was able to visualize and eventually create this image.

On the Edge

“On the Edge” (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

 

7. Joy in the Little Things, Henry Mountains, Utah (July 19, 2015)
In hopes of escaping the heat (and to formally discuss plans for a new collaborative book…), I headed to the cooler high elevations of the Henry Mountains with my good buddy and very talented photographer/writer, Guy Tal.  We stopped en route for a short break, but when I saw this beautiful yellow salsify I just had to photograph with my macro lens…so it became a very long break on the side of the dirt road…!

Joy in the Little Things

“Joy in the Little Things” (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

 

8.  “Unfurl Your Tendrils,” Henry Mountains, Utah (July 20, 2015)
Merely one day after I made “Joy in the Little Things,” we saw ample wildflowers while exploring the mountains, including this sego lily in unique form.  I tried to channel Georgia O’Keefe paintings when making this top down abstract/macro perspective.

Unfurl Your Tendrils

“Unfurl Your Tendrils” (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

 

9.  “Palm of the Earth,” Cainville Badlands, Utah (July 20, 2015)
During my trip to the Henry Mountains, Guy and I decided to check out the badlands at much lower (hotter) elevations in hopes of getting a summer monsoon storm and dappled light. Instead we had mostly cloudy skies, but that did not stop me from falling in love with the area and seemingly endless compositions it offered.

Palm of the Earth

“Palm of the Earth” (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

 

10.  “Stone and Lace,” Poison Springs Canyon, Utah (July 22, 2015)
Toward the end of my summer trip to southern Utah, we stopped by Poison Springs Canyon and found some gorgeous tafoni along the canyon walls.  I converted this mid-day photograph to black and white to help emphasize the form, shape, and textures – the color wasn’t important to my message so I eliminated it.

Stone and Lace

“Stone and Lace” (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

 

11. “A New Day Begins,” Acadia National Park, Maine (October 7, 2015)
Due to warm weather and a lack of precipitation, autumn arrived to the coast of Maine almost two weeks later than normal.  While waiting for fall colors (and my workshop group) to arrive, I visited some favorite old haunts, like Monument Cove.

A New Day Begins

“A New Day Begins” (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

 

12.  “Splendor of the Season,” Acadia National Park, Maine (October 17, 2015)
And when autumn finally arrived to the coastal park, it didn’t disappoint (it never does!).  With the low sweet blueberry bush glowing its characteristic lip-stick red coat for fall, I headed to Cadilliac Mountain’s summit at sunrise to celebrate the season of change.

Splendor of the Season

“Splendor of the Season” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order yours!)

 

13.  “Autumn Whispers in the Water,” Acadia National Park, Maine (October 19, 2015)
On my final day in the park, I became memorized by the palette of reflected colors in Jordan Stream.  To learn more about how I made this photograph, visit my blog post “Making the Image: A Whisper in the Water.”

A Whisper in the Water

“A Whisper in the Water” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order yours!)

 

14.  “Sunrise Serenity at Warm Creek Bay,” Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, Arizona (October 28, 2015)
In preparation for our longer Lake Powell adventure, my Mom and I made a three-day trial run there in late October.  You might believe the reason I made this image was because of the colors in the sky, and you’d be partially right.  The primary reason I photographed here, though, is this is where my mom “cowboy camped” beneath the stars without a tent for the first time in her 64-years. I rolled over in my sleeping bag the next morning and snapped this image to commemorate this proud achievement!

Sunrise Serenity at Warm Creek Bay

“Sunrise Serenity at Warm Creek Bay” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order yours!)

 

15.  “Frozen Flurries,” my friend’s windshield after a snowstorm in southern Utah (November 12, 2015)
Photographing ice on my friend’s windshield reminded me that a personally meaningful photograph does not necessarily start with a beautiful location, but rather a photographer’s own observations, curiosity, appreciation, and confidence to visually express moments and experiences he/she deems important…even in the most unusual places.

Frozen Flurries

“Frozen Flurries” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order yours!)

 


16.  “Reverie in the Canyon ,” Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah (December 17, 2015)
Needing some downtime to process the events from our paddle on Lake Powell and the entire year as a whole, I headed up to the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument to photograph ice in the canyons with my friend.  While we found plenty of ice, we also found beautiful iridescent biofilm floating on the creeks’ slow moving surface, which led to the creation of my final image of 2015.

Reverie in the Canyon

“Reverie in the Canyon” (Prints available for purchase – click on photo to order yours!)

But wait, there’s more! Since I introduced my poetry this year, I will throw in my favorite poem I penned last July as a bonus:

“Around the Campfire”

The back of beyond
Hunches over the maddening voices
Of yesterday.  Time enough,
Cold enough to build a fire.

Tails of haunted demons whip
In the fury of the crackling flames,
Spewing embers that sear

Your cozy sweater
And singe unforgiving memories
Into your weathered and weary flesh.
A naked soul bared on stone watching,

Thirsting for answers to rise,
Rise out of the brazen ash,
Exhaling a soaring phoenix
In whorls of smoke.

Aspens rustle,
Clouds cry,
Freedom stirs
In the wind’s sigh.

Obscurities melt
Into the nothingness
Of the Earth. Welcome
To your life of rapture.

 

So what’s on tap for 2016?  I learned a whole lot about myself this year – as one often does when hardship shows up on your doorstep unexpectedly.  Among many other things, I determined I’m not a photographer who likes to write, but rather a writer who loves to photograph.  Also, my passion for helping others enjoy the Great Outdoors only continues to intensify.  To blend those two realizations together, I am adjusting my priorities slightly to focus on some super exciting new adventures and writing/book projects.  Stay tuned for more!

As we kick off 2016, I remain very grateful to you for your continued support, encouragement, friendship, and laughs through it all as allows me to continue to grow as a human being, live an incredibly fulfilling life, and keep pursuing my dreams.  So thank you!

Cheers to you for a bright and joyful new year!  As Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote above encourages, I hope you live 2016, “taste it, experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experiences.”  And of course, keep shooting!

~Colleen

Sep 032015
 
What Lies Within Counts

“What Lies Within Counts” || Abstract, close-up view of a dandelion seed head from City of Rocks National Reserve, Idaho (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

Sometimes while photographing, we arrive at a grand scene offering so much beauty that causes us to – rightfully so – feel quickly overwhelmed.  To overcome this unsettling sensation, I tap into mindfulness techniques as a way to become more aware and connected with our surroundings (as some of you have experienced while participating in my photo workshops).

When I intentionally slow myself down to express curiosity and gratitude for my surroundings, the process oftentimes leads to a “flash of perception” experience, or in other words, a moment where I say, “WOW, look at THAT!”  When I catch myself saying this (especially if I say it aloud while alone!), I know instantly it is my cue to break out the camera gear and start creating a photograph.

Without further exploration and definition, though, the “THAT” is difficult to bottle up and stuff into a rectangular frame successfully.  To help provide additional guidance to my compositions, I will frequently title my image before I snap the shutter.  If I have trouble condensing my thoughts into a short title, I will simply talk through what I am seeing, focusing on the shapes, colors, lines, forms, etc. grabbing my attention.  As I outline my thoughts, I pay close attention to the words and concepts I can express photographically.

In May 2015, at the Moab Photography Symposium, a frequent attendee and fine photographer introduced me (and eventually the entire audience) to his favorite way to connect what he sees with what he feels – a haiku – a technique he learned from famous photographer Eddie Soloway.  Using the traditional haiku form of three lines (the first and last lines requiring five syllables and the second, seven), a photographer describes what you see in the first two lines and then how you feel about it in the final line.

Having a great interest in poetry myself and having created haikus before in a different context, I immediately gravitated towards this new idea so relevant to photographers trying to understand their surroundings and ultimately, express their thoughts in pixels.  I’ve not only incorporated this process more regularly into my own photographic pursuits, but I now also offer it to my students during my photography workshops as another option for expressing what we observe.  In fact, I put the practice to recent use on my photographic outing last week.

While hiking one afternoon among the gigantic granite spires in City of Rocks National Reserve in southern Idaho, I came upon a meadow full of summer blooms – rabbit brush, yellow salsify, asters, and more – interspersed among the junipers and sage brush.  I spent a few minutes simply admiring summer’s abundance – and my fortunate opportunity to see it.  After observing for awhile, I noticed a small dandelion seed head off on its own in a small clearing in the middle of the busyness. I walked over to inspect more closely.

Joy in the Little Things

“Joy in the Little Things” || Abstract macro view of a yellow salisfy seed from the Henry Mountains in southern Utah (Prints available – click on photo to order yours!)

Having recently photographed a similar, but much larger subject – the yellow salsify seed head – in the Henry Mountains this past July (see photo “Joy in the Little Things”  on the right) and again along the very trail I was hiking before reaching this meadow, I knew I wanted to get my lens as close as possible to study the intricate details of this smaller, but equally exciting, specimen.  To do so, I grabbed my 100mm macro lens and two 12mm extension tubes.

As I set up around the fluff ball, I started to think about how I would title my frame by considering why I picked out this exact subject.  Certainly, the intriguing shapes and structure contrasting the softness interested me.  But, there was more to it than just the visual appeal…

I came up with “What Lies Within Counts” to reference not only the dandelion within the larger context of its existence in the field and it’s relevance to life in general, but also the heart-like shape I saw (which is the shape of the out-of-focus bracts of the dandelion) that offset the bright white radiating shapes.

Immediately thereafter, in almost in a whimsical song, a haiku started to develop in my head, with the title of my photograph becoming the last line of the haiku:

Look Closely (A Haiku)
A busy field sways,
Veils one dandelion’s grace –
What lies within counts.

With the title and haiku as my guides, I tested a number of different compositions to fulfill these notions.  I eventually settled on placing the dandelion bracts as off-centered as possible to create a sense of asymmetrical balance while keeping the flower itself centered in the frame to allow for a natural vignette to occur (which is simply the edge of the flower appearing against the ground, blurred by a wide f/2.8 aperture setting).  Because of a substantial, but irregular breeze, I bumped my ISO to 800, which yielded a fast enough shutter speed (1/500th of a second) to help freeze the dandelion as it swayed in the meadow.

In addition to waiting for the breeze to calm momentarily, I also waited for a cloud to pass in front of the sun to turn the harsh, contrasty mid-day light into more pleasing, softer diffused light.

As I packed up, I still noodled on the title and tagline of the haiku as it related to photography.  In order to make our personally meaningful nature photographs, I certainly believe “what lies inside [the photographer] counts.”  By paying attention to our individual backgrounds, experience, knowledge, and interests – all the things that drive you to you say “WOW, look at THAT!” – leads to more consistent success and satisfaction in the image making process.

Just remember to look closely not just at your subjects, but at yourself as you do so…

Aug 102015
 
Drifiting From Reality

“Drifting From Reality” || Reflection of cliffs melt into a riffle along Succor Creek in the Succor Creek State Natural Area in southeastern Oregon (Prints available – click on photo to order!)

When I decide where to travel to create my own photography (versus shooting on assignment), I often try to mix up my time between visiting old favorites with new locations.  Because of my deep connections and ongoing fascinations with my favorite places, I feel not only comfortable and relaxed in these spots, but I also find endless stories to tell about them.  In these places, it feels like I’m coming home to a plateful of freshly-baked, warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies.  And those who know me know very well that I am not capable of resisting freshly-baked, warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies (or any cookies for that matter…).

At the same time, though, I love the thrill of discovering and exploring all the new surprises a completely new location offers.  It’s like opening presents on my birthday or at Christmas.  Every time I look or pick something up, it offers me a chance to learn something new about the place or a subject -  and quite often about myself. This past May during my three-week adventure in Oregon, I balanced my time between old favorites – the coast, specifically Carl Washburne and Cape Lookout state parks – and a new place – Succor Creek State Natural Area.  Not only did I chose the Succor Creek area because I had never been there before, but also because it promised water in the high desert (a juxtaposition that never ceases to intrigue me) along the eastern border Oregon shares with Idaho.

After about an eight-hour drive from Portland, I arrived to the tree-lined oasis and set up camp.  For four blissful days, I enjoyed hiking along the water’s edge, marveling at thunder eggs (Oregon’s official state rock), and watching the light dances on the rhyolite cliffs surrounding me in my temporary “home.”  Ever corner I turned, a new sight, scene, smell awaited – oh, the joy!

From my camp, I could hear the water gurgling and tossing against the rocks all day and all night.  As I listened, I wondered what it would be like to be that water – Where has it been?  Where is it going?  And why?  I started to pen words answering these questions and internalizing the idea of an unknown journey within myself.  Where had I been?  Where was I going?  And why?   I smiled when I realized Succor Creek was living up to its name.  By definition, the word “succor” means “help; relief; aid; assistance” according to dictionary.com.

As quickly as the creek streamed by me, the words formed into a new poem to help me share my experience:

Go With the Flow

Silky caramel water seduced
By a stoic stone
Without choice, innocently
Drifts downstream
Towards a riffle
That looks not to cause trouble,
But simply has nothing

Else to do.
Streaking gracefully
Then plunging and drowning
In its own breath,
The wave curls over
Itself, roaring, frothing, splashing,
Madly gasping for the past
Just barely,
Barely

Out of reach. Overthrown
Yet unscathed save for an escorting
Crown of sage bubbles,
Whispering memories bursting
In the unruffled aftermath
Into an embrace

Of empathetic trees
Where my roots dip
Their toes
Into the mirror.

Floating away,
United in our destination
Unknown.

 

As I polished the draft of my poem,  I glanced up to notice a beautiful reflection glowing on top of the water’s surface while sitting in camp late in the afternoon on the day prior to my departure.  Harsh sunlight bathed the entire scene, but I had learned enough about this location in the days prior to know if I waited an hour or so, the creek would fall into shadow (thanks to the sun dropping behind cliffs to the west of me) and create a desirable contrast to the still-illuminated cliffs to the east of my position.  I headed to the creek with my camera and tripod in hand anyhow to perfect my composition so that I could be ready as soon as the light fell into place.

While watching the reflected light pour over the riffle, I decided to title my forthcoming photograph, “Drifting From Reality.”  I intended to create a composition with a slow enough shutter speed to create a “silky” effect mentioned in my poem.  I also wanted the water to appear as if it were melting the cliff’s reflection in the water into the “stoic stones” on the left side of my frame.  I settled on ISO 100 and f/22 to slow my exposure down.  I waited until the bright light receded in order to get a final shutter speed setting (1/4 second).  The photo above resulted.

I spent the rest of the evening photographing and wading in the warm creek, playing until the day faded into night.  With the final click of my shutter, I decided to add Succor Creek to my “old favorites” list.  I certainly can’t wait to return!  And next time, I’ll bring fresh-baked, warm, gooey chocolate chip cookies…

Aug 042015
 
On Becoming a Wave

“On Becoming a Wave” || On a foggy morning, waves roll into Cannon Beach, with Ecola State Park in the background, on the northern coast of Oregon, USA (Prints available – click on photo to order!)

While the idiom goes, “A picture is worth a 1000 words,” sometimes I find I have a little more to say about a place or experience than just 1000 words.  Typically, those words evolve into a story, a blog, or in extreme cases, a book.  More and more frequently, though, I find myself writing poems to accompany my images.  Although I have composed poetry for a number of years, few people outside of my immediate family and a couple of close, trusted friends have ever read my written creations.  Until now…thanks largely in part to the encouragement I’ve received from my family and friends.  And because I find it becoming an important part of my creative process for self-expression.

Like creating a meaningful image, inspiration for my poems come literally from everywhere and anywhere.  Sometimes a poem almost writes itself, spilling onto the pages somewhat effortlessly as thoughts about a place, experience, or situation flow freely (much like arriving at a location and everything – the light, the composition, the mood – all comes together in one magical moment to snap a photograph).  More often, I get a spark of an idea – a word, a phrase, or a notion – and spend time noodling on what it means to me, how I feel about it, and what I wish to say about it (similar to the visualization process I use to make photographs).  During this analytical process, I dig as deep into my soul as possible to try to first understand what’s happening inside me, without judging, and then try to pick carefully the words to help reveal those emotions in a written form.

There are times when I feel like I’m not myself when I write poetry, only to discover later the poem I develop expresses exactly who I am.  It’s a difficult head space to describe…but Rollo May’s has a great quote about the process:  “When you write a poem, you discover that the very necessity of fitting your meaning into such and such a form requires you to search in your imagination for new meanings. You reject certain ways of saying it; you select others, always trying to form the poem again. In your forming, you arrive at new and more profound meanings than you had even dreamed of.”

I enjoy pairing my poems and photographs together to convey a broader sense and context of the observations I deem important as I’m in the Great Outdoors.  In some cases, the poem adds more meaning to the photograph.  In others, the photograph helps explain the poem.  A poem helps me communicate the reason why I made the photograph in the first place (in more depth than a descriptive, but short, title would).  A photograph gives me an avenue to express deeper thoughts in my poems.  It’s very much a “which comes first, the chicken or the egg” scenario.

With that background in mind, I thought I’d share a more recent photograph and poem pairing, one I created while wandering along “my” beloved Oregon coast this past May.  Watching waves crashed into the cliffs or roll onto the beach is something I could literally do all day, so I started with visual inspiration from the sea, resulting in the photo you see above. Fog along the coast in the summer frequently occurs, which I find adds extra drama to the already beautiful scenery.  To capture a more intimate view of the waves rolling onto Cannon Beach, I walked to the mouth of Ecola Creek as the tide receded and then ran with the waves and photographed them from a low, crouched perspective as they raced onto the shore.  I ended up hand-holding the camera, even at the slow shutter speed of 1/4th second, as I didn’t have time to set up the tripod.  With my wide-angle 24-105mm lens, I used an f/9 aperture to get just enough depth of field combined with the motion in the waves I desired.

The idea for this poem originated while I was judging the Norm Strung Youth Writing Awards for the Outdoor Writers Association of America (OWAA) around that same time frame and noted a number of entries titled, “How to Be a [Insert object or animal here]” (likely originating from one teacher’s classroom writing activities).  I immediately thought about what it’d be like to be a wave, which resulted in the following poem:

“On Becoming a Wave”

Wander
Effortlessly across
The palette of blue,
Bobbing, boiling, rolling
Until the winds guide you

Home.
Twist your tendrils,
And fluff your skirt
To sashay into your daring
White-gloved entrance.
Rumble, rock,
Foam and froth
With unbridled delight.

Rain or shine,
No matter the terrain,
Disregard resistance.

Thunder madly into resilient cliffs.
Explode into a bouquet of decay.
Spray seaweed confetti across the sky .
Ooze through every crack, every crevice,
Taunting each grain of sand to roll between
Your insistent caress.

Frolic until a drifter’s whisper
Summons your soul,
Disregard resistance.

Pause to remember
Where you came from.
Then as the cobble claps,
Take a bow and
Recede elegantly, flawlessly
As delicate lace.

Time to begin again.

 

As this is my first time sharing my poetry publicly, I certainly welcome your thoughts about my photo and poem pairing so please leave me your comments below!  What do you think about it?  Does anyone else out there write poems to accompany your photographs?