This isn’t my photograph. I only wish it was. It was taken by a friend of mine, a real skill as a landscape photographer - a talent, an eye for a picture that is quite unique. I shall call him Philip Morgan for want of a better name (or my own).
I guess we all know the excitement of seeing something unique and beautiful appear in front of us. That ‘it’ that captures our attention, making us wonder at the complexity of circumstance that has brought those objects, that light, these shadows, ourselves, together in a place at just at the right time, making us witness something wonderful.
Well, maybe not all of us. But those of us who are constantly looking know the thrill of seeing and how, eventually, that leads to the need to capture – and therein lies the rub, sometimes what you are seeing sees you back and... CLICK - Gotcha.
And here I go waxing lyrical again.
Photograph - Wolf moon rising.
Laid low upon this hill of black a wolf moon on the rise. Displayed in slender trunks of trees and fixed within the sky.
Shame show her cold eternity to every passer by, hard shining out a threat of gaze to snatch you in the eye.
Don’t see, take blind, just look away; a wolf moon in the sky. A wolf moon so to drive you mad, sound senses fall awry.
Once seen then no escape can be, for you, or me, we all must be full moonstruck; bedazzled for eternity, entangled in her mystery.
Caught low upon this hill of dark a wolf moon on the rise. Coldly kissed by slender sky, a trickster passing by; as caught transfixed and captured – click - as fixed within her eye.