Dream Tomorrow, Live Today, Cherish Yesterday

Don't leave me in the city

Canon 6D

Voyager

Canon 6D

 

She walks

Canon 6D

She walks, her thoughts to herself and the wind on the lake. Time stops. Just the cool blue water... and the cool breeze. She knows now. 

Maxed out in Indy

Fuji X-T1

Man With Hat

Fuji X-T1

Always fun to visit the Seattle Library.

One Chance to Save Her

Fuji X-T1

First ever posting of a shot from Chicago. One of my "interpretive" images.

One Chance to Save Her.

 

Poetic Storm

Faint winds, and a song fading and leaves falling,

Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .

And the rain and over the fields a voice calling . . .

 

One gray blown cloud scurries and lifts above,

Slides on the sun and flutters there to waft her

Sisters on. The shadow of a dove

Falls on the cote, the trees are filled with wings;

And down the valley through the crying trees

The body of the darker storm flies; brings

With its new air the breath of sunken seas

And slender tenuous thunder . . .

But I wait . . .

Wait for the mists and for the blacker rain--

Heavier winds that stir the veil of fate,

Happier winds that pile her hair;

Again

They tear me, teach me, strew the heavy air

Upon me, winds that I know, and storm.

 

There was a summer every rain was rare;

There was a season every wind was warm . . .

And now you pass me in the mist . . . your hair

Rain-blown about you, damp lips curved once more

In that wild irony, that gay despair

That made you old when we have met before;

Wraith-like you drift on out before the rain,

Across the fields, blown with the stemless flowers,

With your old hopes, dead leaves and loves again--

Dim as a dream and wan with all old hours

(Whispers will creep into the growing dark . . .

Tumult will die over the trees)

Now night

Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouse

Of day, glides down the dreaming hills, tear-bright,

To cover with her hair the eerie green . . .

Love for the dusk . . . Love for the glistening after;

Quiet the trees to their last tops . . . serene . . .

 

Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .

 

 

Summer Storm

F. Scott Fitzgerald

AINT winds, and a song fading and leaves falling,Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .And the rain and over the fields a voice calling . . . One gray blown cloud scurries and lifts above,Slides on the sun and flutters there to waft herSisters on. The shadow of a doveFalls on the cote, the trees are filled with wings;And down the valley through the crying treesThe body of the darker storm flies; bringsWith its new air the breath of sunken seasAnd slender tenuous thunder . . .

But I wait . . .

Wait for the mists and for the blacker rain--Heavier winds that stir the veil of fate,Happier winds that pile her hair;

Again

They tear me, teach me, strew the heavy airUpon me, winds that I know, and storm. There was a summer every rain was rare;There was a season every wind was warm . . .And now you pass me in the mist . . . your hairRain-blown about you, damp lips curved once moreIn that wild irony, that gay despairThat made you old when we have met before;Wraith-like you drift on out before the rain,Across the fields, blown with the stemless flowers,With your old hopes, dead leaves and loves again--Dim as a dream and wan with all old hours(Whispers will creep into the growing dark . . .Tumult will die over the trees)

Now night

Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouseOf day, glides down the dreaming hills, tear-bright,To cover with her hair the eerie green . . .Love for the dusk . . . Love for the glistening after;Quiet the trees to their last tops . . . serene . . . Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .
Read more at http://www.poetry-archive.com/f/a_poem_amory_sent_to_eleanor.html#SfgMHRqfw1zEs4u2.99

AINT winds, and a song fading and leaves falling,Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .And the rain and over the fields a voice calling . . . One gray blown cloud scurries and lifts above,Slides on the sun and flutters there to waft herSisters on. The shadow of a doveFalls on the cote, the trees are filled with wings;And down the valley through the crying treesThe body of the darker storm flies; bringsWith its new air the breath of sunken seasAnd slender tenuous thunder . . .

But I wait . . .

Wait for the mists and for the blacker rain--Heavier winds that stir the veil of fate,Happier winds that pile her hair;

Again

They tear me, teach me, strew the heavy airUpon me, winds that I know, and storm. There was a summer every rain was rare;There was a season every wind was warm . . .And now you pass me in the mist . . . your hairRain-blown about you, damp lips curved once moreIn that wild irony, that gay despairThat made you old when we have met before;Wraith-like you drift on out before the rain,Across the fields, blown with the stemless flowers,With your old hopes, dead leaves and loves again--Dim as a dream and wan with all old hours(Whispers will creep into the growing dark . . .Tumult will die over the trees)

Now night

Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouseOf day, glides down the dreaming hills, tear-bright,To cover with her hair the eerie green . . .Love for the dusk . . . Love for the glistening after;Quiet the trees to their last tops . . . serene . . . Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .
Read more at http://www.poetry-archive.com/f/a_poem_amory_sent_to_eleanor.html#SfgMHRqfw1zEs4u2.99

AINT winds, and a song fading and leaves falling,Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .And the rain and over the fields a voice calling . . . One gray blown cloud scurries and lifts above,Slides on the sun and flutters there to waft herSisters on. The shadow of a doveFalls on the cote, the trees are filled with wings;And down the valley through the crying treesThe body of the darker storm flies; bringsWith its new air the breath of sunken seasAnd slender tenuous thunder . . .

But I wait . . .

Wait for the mists and for the blacker rain--Heavier winds that stir the veil of fate,Happier winds that pile her hair;

Again

They tear me, teach me, strew the heavy airUpon me, winds that I know, and storm. There was a summer every rain was rare;There was a season every wind was warm . . .And now you pass me in the mist . . . your hairRain-blown about you, damp lips curved once moreIn that wild irony, that gay despairThat made you old when we have met before;Wraith-like you drift on out before the rain,Across the fields, blown with the stemless flowers,With your old hopes, dead leaves and loves again--Dim as a dream and wan with all old hours(Whispers will creep into the growing dark . . .Tumult will die over the trees)

Now night

Tears from her wetted breast the splattered blouseOf day, glides down the dreaming hills, tear-bright,To cover with her hair the eerie green . . .Love for the dusk . . . Love for the glistening after;Quiet the trees to their last tops . . . serene . . . Faint winds, and far away a fading laughter . . .
Read more at http://www.poetry-archive.com/f/a_poem_amory_sent_to_eleanor.html#SfgMHRqfw1zEs4u2.99

Model Monday - Dreamwalker

Canon 6D, 70-200mm F/2.8, f/2.8, 1/25, iso 1600

She walked into my dream......

The house at the edge of time

Canon 6D, 70-200mm F/2.8, f/32, .3 sec, iso 100

I like the dreamlike quality of this image. Basically a SOOC image, btw.

Frenzy

Canon 6D, 70-200mm F/2.8, f/32, 1/8, iso 100

Another image from my "interpretive" collection.