When you walk into my photograph
in your new yellow raincoat,
a stalk of grain is in your hand
and you are plucking at it, shredding it.
I have set the tripod,
pinned the curtain back,
and I am waiting for the turn of light.
Chaff blows in the rain behind your shoulders.
In the wet street I can see you twice.
Steam from the straw pile down the street,
yellow blossoms of the spirea bush—
I do not close the shutter,
for I am waiting for the turn of light.
You woke earlier than usual today,
craving fresh yogurt.
A waxed street that your footsteps
and the wheels of bicycles had marked
did not prompt me
to close the shutter,
for I was waiting for the turn of light.
When you return three hours later,
your pockets filled with fresh strawberries,
as though this is the reason
for which you left,
your shadow passes
across my photograph
as I stand waiting for the turn of light.
For the NaPoWriMo poem we are to write a poem that:
Is specific to a season
Uses imagery that relates to all five senses (sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell)
Includes a rhetorical question, (like Keats’ “where are the songs of spring?”)