Just past the hills, in the thicket of the trees,
the choked branches fight against the cold grip;
barely touching the smoking river beneath them.
With only the fog in the distant,
the river seems to travel to nowhere in particular
bringing life to all its half-awaken creatures.
Check out the full poem here – “Winter Morning
I took this photo in December one chilly, cold (did I say chilly :-)) morning — right before sunrise. It was a grey, gloomy day overall even after the sun rose. I love gloomy and esp rainy days (side note: probably one of my favorite things in the world. Guess you won’t find this on one of Oprah’s Favorite Things list: -)). I also love the way fog sits on top of waterways in general — what I’ve called ‘smoking rivers.’
So … I got up early this morning to practice shooting in fog. Can’t say I captured it but, it did inspire me to write a poem about my love and wonder of Winter Mornings — hopefully convincing more people to put this on their ‘fav’ list as well.
Photo Courtesy – “of me”