Poem: Strange Light

quarry

Strange Light

Strange light.
Always changing.
Too bright.
Stormy.
Postcard perfect.

The colors
always shifting,
The scenery, always shifting,
from soft to sinister
without moving.

About this poem

I took the picture from the quarry across from my house last weekend. Every few minutes the light would change. The scene would change. The mood would change.

Kinda like life.

Tom

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