It’s the light we chase
in photography
dancing bouncing
particles of photon
its many shades
its layers moods
the absence of it
the way it colours
defines describes
that we coax onto film
to paint pictures of light
Poets see
with an inner eye
that hidden radiance
that shimmers
under the skin of things
the mother lode in experience
sitting still
they wait for the light
to pour out of pens
and paint itself
as poems
