AN AFFINITY FOR PLACE
the photo shoot
How long must he hunt for this brocade, this dream of autumn?
The browned grass and clung leaf etched in frost –
a shivered kiss.
The fog sunk low, like laden cloud, like smoke lingering
after the fire’s bright burning out,
the sky purpling in the gap.
He roams these hills up and down, over and over,
searching for a ghost, listening in the solitude
for the echo of his own footsteps returning
from a time long ago – when he was young,
strong, almost as fleet as the deer he shot.
At last still, he waits for the light in its falling, its failing.
Prey illuminated in the silvering glow –
the moment captured, like held breath and infinite dying.