A photographer’s “doggereal”

A breeze blows on the fallen leaves,

Soft- crunching under footfalls

Then thoughts flow in a pageant

Their slowly crawling centipede

Is so much like a human chain

Their poetry exists in fine words,

Their rhythms beating as in life

Their symmetry really pretty.

Beauty-words gently fall like

December mist dripping from leaves.

Our own transience feels like birds

In the blueness above the treetops.

In the summer sky’s blue torpor

We keep stretching our vision

Until tiny luminous worms swim

In pools of tears in raised eyes.

Here ,a dog becomes a mere image

On the rock where it belongs,

In joyful photo-luminescence.