Almost Seeing

It is a harsh summer light
that bleeds the subtlety out of what you are allowed
to see,
Forcing you to squint, to make out
the few details left to you,
stark
leaving just enough light and dark
for you think you have seen the truth,
but you know, even as your eyes take it in,
that you have not.

About this poem

About taking pictures in a way too bright light. About gossip. About how we almost never share the whole story the first time. Or even the second. Poetry is never about one thing.

The picture was taken in the salt marshes of Cape Cod.

Tom