Later, the people were hidden by the waves.
We couldn't tell if the people got smaller or the waves
taller. Only the copper hands of the rocks were
visible and the sprays' fans through which shadows
crashed. At night, we heard a sequence of plops,
one star after the other over the crest
and the moon quietly sawed through them.
Beautiful photos. I like the way the poem begins in the middle of the action: it gives the reader a lot to think about as one tries to fill in the circumstances.
Posted by: Christine | September 20, 2006 at 06:46 AM
Excellent poem. Has the essence of primitive work--direct and mystical. Yummy photos -- and I know where to use them.
noi
Posted by: nio | September 20, 2006 at 08:21 PM
Great, great photographs Paula. Especially the second one. Thanks for the post.
Posted by: Sam Rasnake | September 21, 2006 at 08:12 PM
Christine, Nio, Sam, thank you. To be there was really an exprience I'll always remember and feel.
Posted by: Paula | September 23, 2006 at 12:08 AM
Wow another lovely posting with beautiful photos,I can feel the waves washing over me and I am refreshed
Posted by: Kianseng Ng | September 25, 2006 at 07:18 AM
Perfect complementarity of pictures & verse.
Posted by: Dick | October 04, 2006 at 03:20 PM
Thanks, Dick
Posted by: Paula | October 05, 2006 at 11:34 AM