Thirteen Ways of Looking at Lakes Park -- Photo Poem

I went to Lakes Park this morning, camera in hand, to create a photo poem.  What follows is that poem, based on (and sometimes borrowed from) "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird" by Wallace Stevens. Enjoy.

THIRTEEN WAYS OF LOOKING AT LAKES PARK 

 I.

Atop a small tree,

the blackbird surveyed

the scene.

II.

I was of three minds,

like a flower

with a bee and a spider.

 III.

The blackbird trotted along,

wondering why the picnic was over.

IV.

A palm and a strangler fig

are one.

A palm and a fig and the earth

are one.

V.

I do not know which I prefer,

the beauty of shadows,

the intensity of silhouettes,

the blackbird cawing,

or just after.

 VI.

Tall grasses framed the

Great Blue Heron.

The eye of the bird

crossed, to and fro,

searching for breakfast,

an undisputed cause.

 VII.

Oh Englishman of Liverpool,

why do you sing of the blackbird?

Have you not witnessed the

statuesque Great White Egret,

a goddess of the grassy shore?

 

VIII.

I know red trees

in autumn.

And I know, too,

of impermanence,

the fleeting nature of life.

The dragonfly is involved

in all I know.

IX.

When the berries ripen

it marks the time

of harvest and feasting.

X.

At the sight of the boardwalk,

I am invited to journey forth

Even the sky beckons,

opening up to the adventure.

 XI.

She said purple

was a sacred color.

Angels rejoice when

we notice its gift,

and acknowledge it

with grace and blessings.

 XII.

The fountains are dancing.

The birds are gliding.

XIII.

It was sunny all morning.

Pinecones falling.

It's another hot summer day.

The blackbird

in the pine limbs.