After Mom Called
After Sunset by William Allingham
The vast and solemn company of clouds
Around the Sun’s death, lit, incarnadined,
Cool into ashy wan; as Night enshrouds
The level pasture, creeping up behind
Through voiceless vales, o’er lawn and purpled hill
And hazéd mead, her mystery to fulfil.
Cows low from far-off farms; the loitering wind
Sighs in the hedge, you hear it if you will,–
Tho’ all the wood, alive atop with wings
Lifting and sinking through the leafy nooks,
Seethes with the clamour of a thousand rooks.
Now every sound at length is hush’d away.
These few are sacred moments. One more Day
Drops in the shadowy gulf of bygone things.
I drove today. I drove and drove and drove. For hours. My camera rode in the seat beside me. In in all of those miles I drove, I saw many things.
I saw… horses, cows,
a Coke bottle on the side of the road,
traffic lights, intersections,
banks, car dealerships,
dirty piles of snow, factories,
the sun sparkling on lakes and ponds,
the Bristol Playhouse, flags waving in the breeze,
a Christmas tree farm, old abandoned homes…..
But I did not find one single thing that wanted me to photograph it. Not even one. After that long drive I needed to meditate and consider what the backs of my eyelids look like for a few minutes. Then my mom called, “Cyndi, I want you to go outside with your camera and look at the sky. It looks like one of your Mt. St. Helen ash ornaments.”
And so it did.