Photography poetry


Great sky can’t decide
between sun or shade.

As brightening streams of
light from above pour down
like flipped buckets filtering
gold through tree branches,
retraction suddenly occurs.

Massive grays usher in
with whole-sky cloud cover.
How I identify with the shifts.

This ol’ heart feels
some comfort,
then not, just like
today’s weather swaps—
sun and shade,
light then dark,
laughter and tears,
days, then, what, years?

Like a critter holding on,
I stay near comforters—
what’s bright,
refreshing rains,
returning light.

Somehow in life’s
circumstantial sorting
I’m anchoring belief

“It’s going to be all right.”




3 replies on “Believe”

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