Thursday, September 20, 2012

like a yellow wing

Another thing to add to my list of obsessions....the golden hour.  At least I know I'm not the only one.  So many photographers are similarly preoccupied.

An excerpt from a poem by Edward Hirsch, titled, "Poor Angels."  {read the whole poem here}

At this hour the soul is like a yellow wing
slipping through the treetops, a little ecstatic
cloud hovering over the sidewalks, calling out
to the approaching night, “Amaze me, amaze me”

Those who seek to photograph the golden hour....why?  Perhaps it is the desire to photograph the soul, the yellow wing of it.  The astonishing hidden haloes that all things possess - their sudden and fleeting visibility.

The soul rising up as the darkness descends, or the reverse, the eternal shuffling of night and day, day and night. The night shift passes the day shift in the hall, whisper to each other as they pass, amaze me, amaze me.....

1 comment:

  1. I like that -- the night shift passing the day shift and whispering to each other. Your images are always full of soul.


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