Christmas trees in blue.
Reflections of seasons past.
No tinsel required.
I sit on the docks.
Removing work shoes, gray socks,
Then my moth eaten sweater.
Curled toes just skirting cool waters below.
With autumn’s embrace, now warming bare arms.
And, too, one weary old soul.
Eyelids grow heavy, surrendering to peace.
Waves playing, our season’s last song.
I’m no photographer, but I’m working on it.
So far I’ve learned how much my world view changes when looking through a lens.
Even when traveling light with an iPad.
This day my lens teaches me as shadows grow longer in the fall, they lead me on to new paths.
Detours causing me to slow down and reflect.
My eye’s opening now to gifts from a shoreline’s soft palette.
Rippling water melodies dancing just beyond.
I wait patiently on a boulder in the breeze, searching for signs the pond’s inching closer to ice.
Knowing my lens will be teaching me this winter, there’s beauty to be found even at thirty below.
Skinny dipping in the bay,
Just my tired ten toes.
One last hurrah.
So cool to the touch,
Yet still warm enough.
Tall ships beyond,
Sailing waters smooth.
Slow dancers on glass,
Till the north breeze cuts in.
A parka parade in tow,
Plump with fine-feathered down.
Reminders of last night’s date,
A web footed sailor.
Who left me in the cold,
Just like every year.