i opened my camera and shook out the leftovers.
images of rain and soft moons and tree limbs naked against the night sky,
the not quite perfects,
the out of focuses,
true illustrations of my life.
my calendar of days.
wednesday morning, i stood in the doorway and took pictures of the rain
and the across the street falling-down house that once was mary's,
watched the creek not rise, breathed a long sigh of relief.
thursday night, the cat stopped on the sidewalk,
stood skygazing through the branches of the pear tree,
and there was the moon hanging low overhead, rain clouds long gone;
i took hand held long exposures and the images bath the sky with milky moonlight.
january, week 4. twenty twelve.