In the pursuit of that which lives to elude and blend
We must take on the mantle of the prey
To know the wakening movement come breaking day
The tabernacle where the silent vespers begin.
Thinking I've become one within the reeds
I feebly focus on the frost covered lines
Shivering not from a cold down the spine
But the form of an unseen one that heeds.
Peering I touch the shutter and say it is so
As I prepare to become one with this prey
The journey long consummating here this day
She draws near from the mists rising slow.
So slow I slip the misty veil over my eyes,
Too late, she knows my intention and off she flies.
This morning(1/21/12) I was up at daylight heading back toward the cypress hammock I visited yesterday near Ocean Pond. It had been a long while since visiting this portion of the Florida Trail with the long,low boardwalk over the now dry bottom. I had hoped for mists rising in the hammock but it was an unmisty, still morning. The first rays were captured and I returned. Yesterday, while visiting, there was a mysterious mist off to the side in the deeper woods, which kept me looking over that way. Thus, the poem alludes to the return time and time again to capture that moment, quite elusive and difficult to convey.
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ReplyDeleteShe does not reveal herself to just anyone. Who am I to think that she shall reveal herself to me? To her I am just another of the hundred hunter's who come bearing number eight shells and not a telephoto lens. Captured on a plate or a framed paper, it is captivity all the same to her.
ReplyDeleteMaybe one day she will sit still for you.
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