But a blur

 Ghost Flight

Just as the jet crossed the moon, the clouds obscured, reducing the shutter to 1/60 and making the jet ghostly. Sometimes unintended consequences are fine.

Things done

Things done

In 2020 they were tearing down old Williston High and Elementary this week. No one seems to mind, they have a new school out on 27. Somehow I mind, in a sentimental manner. Things done to Williston, once my hometown, still my hometown, still affects me. The First Baptist Church. Why did they keep the atrocious Neal building and build the uber ugly metal building beside it? The long abandoned Winn Dixie shell on 121. Bulldoze it how about it? The entire downtown parking on the store frontage. Why didn’t they tell DOT to shove it, build a bypass if you must. The city hall. What took so long? Top of hill. Why the empty field so long where Holiday Inn stood. Hospital. How it came to be closed a crying shame. 

Chick Inn, Carse Oil. More sad Shame. I’m sounding way too negative on my town, there have been nice improvements. I just hate to come every Sunday and see the state it’s in, compared to my memory. I really dread coming this week and seeing  a missing school. And finally, has Pesso been tar and feathered yet? And will someone run that Devils Den bunch out so we can skip school again there?

Once the photographers

 Once photographers moored along the bend....Long before everyone caught the trend...Search and you may find traces of tripod holes....Align your digital upon the spot and see from where they took the shot

Homecoming

 Homecoming

Look honey, there’s Aunt Spora in her pleated ink cap

As grass

 As grass

There is a yard every time this year the rain lilies take over. I never understand why they mow them down. But they do. 

But then, people kill corn snakes and rattlesnakes too.

Don’t look back

 Don’t look back

John Clare Stokes

Don’t look back little one

Once there was a son

Who at that very spot

When like you he was young

He jumped right in

Went below in the dark mire

One jumped in and rescued him

Or did he not ever come up?

What of the lilies

 What is it with lilies?

Is it because they rhyme with memory

And thus they are in that family

Of things that move me?

But zinnia and gardenia are there as well

And as far as I can tell

They too bring me under the spell

In which I seem to have forever dwelt.

What of the magnolia blossoms? 

Yes, to their opening ceremonies I run

Giddy as a boy with presents opening

Bidding my friends to come! Come!

Who placed this love of lilies within?

I want to meet and thank him

They say He has this grand garden

And if you are patient, he will come

And let you walk with him

In the cool of the evening.

When you get the point

 When you get to the point

You just point the camera up

And record what's happening up there

You either need to be a meteorologist 

Give up photography

Or make that scene so compelling

We want to be up there floating.

Taboric light

 Taboric Light 

by john cla55

once the time we climbed the mount

to meet transfiguration leaving us

glowing with the Taboric light

fading as we descended below

covering the glow ashamed to let

mere men know the fading was

complete refusing to live humbly

uncovered at the foot of the

mountain.

I’ll never comprehend

 I'll never comprehend

This God who sends

Lightening 

Thundering

Loudly yet

Goes about ever

So quietly

Secretly

Never lifting his

Veil

Telling us

By faith

Not sight

In weakness

In suffering

In humility

Poverty

How men

Worship Him

Bowing

Then going about

Living apart

Alien

Mean

Denying 

Like it seems

He wants them to

Lift the veil

Revealing Him

Calmly

Striking them. 

.

Things beyond

 Things beyond

Many a Sabbath we were admonished to set the

Affections on the things above

Look away from the things of this world

But we couldn't stop gazing at what we loved

It became obvious as a white flag unfurling.

We did not have to go about wearing scarlet letters

We knew the color of our deepest affections

Down to the very rhyme, symbol and metaphor

A straight on literal view void of tone or inflection. 

Unable to see the flip side of the veil

Deaf to the heavenly refrain of angels

It wasn't a mystery, we could tell

To us it was mere metal, not a holy grail.

Right turn

 Right turn #23

Today I looked for signs along the way

Of directions to take

Remain among the living

Dwell among the dying dead

It never came clear at any turn

Right turns just as compelling as left

In the long, slow straights void of weights

It kind of made some sense

Laziness seems to win in the end.