Smoke. Mirrors.

The cloudy dawn stopped to gaze at itself in the mirror-smooth surface of the creek this morning. I snapped it to see if I could capture those reflections.

Moments of grace can be so fleeting …I checked the photo quickly, but by the time I looked to the East again, the vision was gone. A dirty pewter creek and the sky bleaching into day.

One more day at work tomorrow, and then the short Sunday will bear the burden of all my creative frustration before I head back to work on Monday. I don’t know how some people work like this, six days a week, for years!

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One thought on “Smoke. Mirrors.

  1. “Moments of grace”…artists, poets and saints (not usually combined!) speak of that, Nat. It’s paying attention. I once wrote a poem about a shower of blossoms blown down in the path of a business person hurrying to catch a bus….who missed the moment. You caught that morning shower of light on the water because you are so open to these gifts from the universe.

    Liked by 1 person

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