Sunday, October 18, 2009

The touch.

                                                              The festival of light.

Down by the bay the misty sun glints gently off the water and softly brushes over the trees and banks of salal. I feel it touching me too as I pause to make a photo. It is the gentleness of the light that has pulled me into the scene and in a time when we are drifting toward the harshness of winter this is a parting gift.

It is a spooky thing to feel this powerful communication without any religious packaging, no framing, just a direct touch of a vanishing hand and a whispered promise of return.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Mmmm . . . so lovely these words must be written very softly, very lightly.