Albums of summer when you
were perched on a stubby horse,
how light filled up the emptiness
of the straggling path.
Your eyes round and dark,
didn’t seem to see
more than was needed for the pose.
On another path at the whim
of the clouds, I slipped a foot
into a stirrup and sat on a small,
gray horse. In the picture, light eats
the darkside of the shrubs, shadows
on my face.
Now the horses ride in a measure
of lost time. The camera has stopped
our childhood in its revery. We leave
that frontier for this green film
of leaves in an overlavish
summer—snapshots of winter
in a frozen spool—and come to love
despite the dark photographer
trailing our steps out of the frame
and into these red kisses. Geraniums
and the lip of the moon
in the shot on the path
where we blur in the dusk, two
faint lines who don’t seem to need
more than is seen in the woods.
by, Colette Inez
Posted by Diana.
