invoke your opening shutter:
you build stamens into white resonance.
With the tilt of the lens
you hold back your breath
to halt the photo-blur.
The army of slime mold cells below
silently begins its glacial escape
as your mouth softens in anticipation
of capturing a pristine moment.
The scattered forest tops
shade your eyebrows
with the vertical upheaval
of decades-young canopy.
Can you see? In the clock-stop
stillness of a camera’s blinking eye
you tighten your grip on yourself
while still kneeling lightly
on the floors of nature.
Thus you open places that appear
all at once before you,
and culminate in the narrow beak of a winter bird
that rests momentarily on your shovel
before gratefully returning
to the archeological dig near your feet,
where it exhumes, then eats,
its breakfast of worms.
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