The difference between poetry and prose is that most poetry is merely a slice of a story. It’s a snapshot. For Christmas I got a digital camera of my very own. I’ve wanted one for years but “our” camera was primary my wife’s. She’s the scrapbooker. But having written so much poetry, I know that really it’s a photograph of a moment in time. So I wanted to take my own pictures now.
Yesterday was a great example and one of only a few days that I didn’t have my camera. Major let down. Walking out of my office to my car, there was a single tree in the parking lot that had leaves and the buds of flowers. All of the rest were bare. To boot, the mountain in the background was shrouded in snowy cloud at it’s peak and the snow fall could be seen resting on it’s slopes. I wanted to line up the picture of the tree, it’s neighbors still slumbering (despite having an incredibly mild winter) and the mountain shivering in the background. The simple title would be “Defiance”.
I think I feel a poem coming on.
This is the Novel Mage saying, *POOF*