J.Hyatt #49 – Aug.18/13
“The poet, a pickpocket of reality.” Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Think of the sun as it fell to the pond
Remember the smell in the woods;
it was musty and sweet, and something
else you can’t quite recall
Were the bees humming their way
back to the hive?
Was the sky so brilliant it hurt to look up?
Now, picture yourself sneaking up on the thing;
the rushes surrounding it rustling
so loud you can’t think,
And your stomach is wet from the ground
as you crawl steadily closer
Now, you’re fumbling your camera to snap
off a shot…
Oh —of course, you took a picture of it!