Photographer's Wife, Yosemite

Charis, Lake Ediza, California, 1937 by Edward Weston

Lips unmoving,
there's too little to say.

With feet propped on stone,
a new kind of cold.

Ice sheets below,
where silence pervades

And against this wall
a soul waits, unfazed.

Girded for war,
but heaving to be free

Why bother to blink,
with one's heart frozen shut?

Now once more, please,
and relax this time.

Then ready a fire
for the photographer's wife.

~a bit of poetry I wrote for Mag 142