How I Photograph

A woodland, a graveyard, Where nature reclaims, Golden frames awaiting, Enticing, insisting, imploring My leading finger's interminably slow tender crush Upon my Comrade's cool crescent curve, And then, once more, The hounds break loose, Coming for us through the trees, A cataclysmic gathering of light, As fifteen billion photons rush recklessly Through seven mystically aligned… Continue reading How I Photograph