Old Apple Tree In Spring ©

Photo by Robert Lipgar www.lipgarphotography.com


Dawn comes early,
scented vapors fill the air,
dew and dust wake my senses,
eyes and nostrils sting.

Light slides slowly
across ancient stones
searching worn deep crevices,
leaving trails,
long dark shadows.

Birds and bells sing,
stones and towers wake,
ancient apprehensions appear,
my heart pounds.

Jerusalem, O Jerusalem,
if I forget thee . . .

golden Jerusalem
can I forget thee?

With my camera,
I go into the morning
and hold my Jerusalem.

©Robert M. Lipgar

It Matters

When you try to make sense of your life
and you reach
but can't find all the fragments
which would make the picture less of a puzzle,
more complete,
more certain,
more of a story;
it is then that the loss of a friend
strikes with fresh force because
he is gone
no longer there to tell you
no, it was Prufrock and not the Wasteland
that you heard that late afternoon;
yes, you remember the sounds and cigarette smoke
coming from in the Freshman dorm room
at the head of the stairs,
but no, it was Prufrock and not the Wasteland
that you heard Eliot read aloud for the first time,
and it matters.

© Robert Lipgar





Field at Dawn
Painting by Carla Belniak. Ms. Belniak's gallery of art can be viewed and purchased at www.carlabelniak.com.