The Photographer

Behind the glass,
within the frame,
looking outwards,
there is a chain
of peaks
captured on film.
And suddenly
I am standing there
in the valley,
grass waving,
wind blowing,
my skirt around my legs,
my hair around my face.
A hawk circles overhead.
He looks down for prey
while I seek upward.
Two visions
in stereoscopic unison.
And, all the while,
behind the lens,
beyond my sight,
there is you.

9/12/06