We spent yesterday at the lake.
Zoe fished,
while I played around with my camera.
I think this shot epitomizes the title of this post
which is from a poem by Margo Lagattuta.
Gifting sand.
These are my feet, filtered in teal.
The parking lot before we left, also filtered.
Hay bales on the ride home.
A storm brewing behind the underpass.
An excerpt from Automatic Variable Frequency:
Thank God you can't hear it,
but the sound you can't hear
goes looking for you sometimes,
waits in the last place
you try to hide your raincoat,
the closet without doors.
This has nothing to do with you,
but the sound you can't hear
won't leave you.
-Margo Lagattuta
