This gallery contains 4 photos.
You maker, you shaper, you mover of things
I hear all your voices
whispering to trees, telling lies to the hills
hollering down valleys and screeching your name
you tickle the funny bone of my barn
and rattle this house
poking and punching like a 9-year old boy
you’re constant, forever, but nowhere to be seen
hands-free sculptor of fame
go on, go on screeching your name
Middle River, Cape Breton – March 19, 2015.
I was posting this photograph because I liked how much it looked like I had taken it in black and white mode when in fact it was really how the world looked around here yesterday morning. It was the calm before, yet another snow storm.
It wasn’t until I had typed the words of the title for this post that I saw a whole other story being told in this photograph.
What story do you see?