Haiku Sunday (54-56)

The Photographer

His eyes were open.
He saw what no one else did.
He held a power.

He held the power
To capture time, a moment,
The light or movement.

His trigger finger,
Making us all immortal
The photographer.


Author: Lea

Whether it's fine dining on discourse or nibbling on morsels of delectable villanelles, I appreciate good company, good wine, and a stunning backdrop. I am a mom, tiny houser, vegetarian (flirting with veganism), and a minimalist. I'm a wild woman in a mad world and an explorer of the unexpected.

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