I took a photo seven times —
A thick grove of dark spindly trees
Backed by a bright December sun —
And a small turquoise dot shines
In each — the camera lens sees
Images where I think are none.
I continued my walk by a pond,
Looking for mink and waterfowl.
Hawks circled each other beyond,
Their screeches in the wind a howl.
From deep hoof prints I knew a deer
Had trod this path, now nowhere near.
I stared at the sun — a blinked tear
Painted the trees with a blue smear.
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