I awoke to a plank of mottled gray smoke hanging across the lake.
The forest was oddly still, faintly reminiscent of old-time tintype photos. I read that subjects often had to wear heavy metal head clamps hidden from view so that movement wouldn’t blur the image.
I wondered, while they stood motionless, what they might be worrying about.
tintype
the photographer hides
under his black cloak–
working knobs and bellows,
to bring into focus
an unsmiling forest–
holding still, looking east
where fire and smoke
copper the sky
photo courtesy of pixaby
poem © 2024 Patricia J. Franz
(As I prepare to post, the Hawk fire burning northeast of me is 85% contained. My heart is with the hundreds who have lost their homes in this latest, horrible wildfire).
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Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains.