The photographer

by poetrydiary

Nature and I lie quietly in your lens;
sunlight playing with our captive limbs.
New forms emerge which might make sense
of accidental histories, chance whims.

Nature moves on, wind and snow ensure
momentary beauty cannot last,
but seeks new frames, now richer for
your passing and reaction to the past.

But who outside your cosy frame am I?
The force within compels – go on
and make new shapes, don’t ask me why
the metaphor is good. We must be gone.


Submitted to Jingle Poetry Potluck May 2011. Sketches and impressions, like those caught by photographs…

© 2011 Matthew Rhodes