One of the gifts of photography is that a precious moment can live forever in your presence. I am very fortunate to be living a life full of precious moments. And many of those moments were captured by camera. But in today's world of social networking and internet access, photos often become a record of the inane, better left forgotten moments. Take a look at some of the photos on Facebook and you'll see exactly what I mean.

I wanted to upload one of my favorite photos to this blog, but because it was taken before the instant, digital age, I had to scan it. Technology doesn't always perform in the ways promised, and as a result, I have no photo to share with you; but I have a poem which I wrote a couple of summers ago about the photo. And that might be better in some ways, because even though "a photo is worth a 1000 words", there are times when words do a better job of interacting with each individual spirit. Here's the poem and only my daughter and husband will know to which photo I refer.


Still Life

But for one photo, it is empty.
A gift from a long-ago friend
upon returning from China.

The circular window in the center 
of its wooden cover reveals a delicate
ink drawing: a teapot, two teacups
and a plate of noodles.  Hospitality.
Chinese characters rest above the drawing,
their meaning unknown to me.

I've moved it--always empty--from desk, 
to shelf, to table, to shelf again
for more than fifteen years.  Now, finally
it claims the one photo:

a color photo taken years ago, of my husband
and our five-year-old daughter--fishing.
His hands over hers lift the rod back behind
their shoulders.  She grits her teeth
in desire to execute the perfect cast.
Though summer, a gray Atlantic looms
behind them, adjoined by a lead-cloud sky.

The photo's only warmth is the life
in the two persons framed:  the loving
hands of this tending father, the spirited energy
of this young daughter.  The life in the photo
enough to fill the entire photo album.