A departure from Christmas themes. Since our walk the other morning, the photographs I captured are fresh, just asking for elaboration and sharing.
I have been waiting to use this poem for ages.
I read it in college and it comes to mind on days such as this one.
"The fog comes
on little car feet
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on."
Eerie, the haunting photos tell of the mist which muffled
sounds around it. But a few steps over the railroad tracks from our little downtown the harbor in all of its faces reflects the south, the sea, an island. This day a face that
speaks of olden days, hiding secrets in its grey cloak.
Linear shapes go aloft through the mist with their shadows playing beneath.
The fog has kept boat owners close in their holds awaiting the sun to let them
travel on. Their names read: Maine, New Jersey, and on and on.
A lone pelican seeking an early meal.
Does one walk into yesteryear from this pier?
I imagine sailor -speak would have a title for a sight like this one. The sun coming
slowly out over the horizon promising a clearer day.
Edgar Allen Poe once wrote .."all that we see or dream is but a dream within a dream." Walking in the misty harbor you get that Poe feeling.
I took the above photograph in the harbor and then revised it on an application revealing
this spook catamaran and the lovely bird on its right. All of the photos in this post were taken by Yours Truly..
On a island that once was the favorite haunt of pirates (historical fact and tales for another day) one turns to old ghost stories. So before the sun comes out I leave you with this...
Happy dreaming and avast .....