How is it that time both stands still and seems on permanent fast forward at the same time?  And in this warped dimension, I am looking for poems while also stuck in my house, my yard, my neighborhood.  I’m trying to figure out where poems hide.

My latest photographic endeavor is trying to uncover which stray weed or bedraggled plant in my backyard will make an interesting photograph.  Combine these two unexpected and yet enduring constraints…and here is what you get:

Where Poems Hide

 

This ordinary weed conjures magic.

Get close.  When you do

 

you will discover

worlds

 

where miniature feathered fairy umbrellas

float

drifting along unmapped pathways

on invisible air currents

 

landing in cracks

on walls

in sidewalks

between mineral crusted rocks

on thick carpets of carefully groomed lawns

 

waiting for nature’s elixir

dew drops

raindrops

sprinkler drops

to set off the chain reaction

 

Sturdy stems root in

toes grabbing hold

standing firm

against weather

and weed whips

 

until a riot of sunburst yellow

explodes

polka dotting

unsuspecting landscapes

 

This is the place where poems blossom

hiding behind petals

floating on a child’s breath

 

listen closely

you’ll hear

the poetry of the

dandelion

®Douillard