Monday Sway

I am not even attempting to rhyme anymore. I am simply writing lines, suppose you would call it prose.
It is a prose about my journey to the Suwannee River at Bell Springs yesterday afternoon. It was a call to heed. A call needed. A friend came by the store the other day, who happens to be a 'photographer'. I shall call her a fair weather photographer. She made several comments that kind of caused me to ponder and say huh?
When I said, have you been out photographing lately? She replied, too hot. I said, I have been upon the Suwannee. She said, Too low, everyone is doing low water photography.. Then I said, Do you always carry your camera? She said, No. And she will probably make the cover of Rolling Stone.

Monday Sway   by john clare

Three-thirty overtook me and drew me away
In a familiar track the wheels turned toward Suwannee
Who cares the day grey and the rain on its way?
Waters upon the lens makes diffused spots of interest
And a wet camera upon the river
beats a dry camera in the bag at home any day.
To the grassy lot of Bell Springs I parked next to the red pick up
It looked as if Monroe had moved from his home to my right.
It is never a happy sight to see another vehicle in the lot
If usually means noise and the scattering of the creatures.
But today all was quiet except the rain in the trees
Once upon the shore the pattered sand showed no tracks of men
Upstream a large alligator floated in mid river facing south.
Further up the tobacco hopper posed atop a cypress knee
Each time I focused he moved so I kept placing him back.
He grew weary of this game and fled to quieter knees.
And the nerve of me to blame others for ruining tranquility.
I could walk no further on the edge as the water had risen
So I back traced the way I entered and up the steep bank
Into the sparkle berry and palmetto I blended.
My shadow appeared at last as the sun broke but for a moment.
Shadow said quicker now, there may be rainbows appearing.
Under the canopy of green two passion flowers  opened instead.
They had the best view taken high upon the bank to the passing
river below them.
On the way out I glanced over to see if death was still watching.
He was, but the moccasin let me pass with my life to carry but
for another day.
And the man said it was good to get away
if but for an hour.
for an hour with the camera beats twenty-four without.
And it was good.








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