Take me down a dusty road
To an emerald meadow sprinkled with gold,
With an ever changing depth of field,
To the woe of the photographer,
And the delight of the seeker,
Of soul stirring wonder,
I hope the fog never lifts,
Celebrate the shafts of light,
Sing the song of the bumble bee,
And the murmur of the wind,
My heart is full.
I can empty some of it here,
Thinking of things I will miss,
Trying to find the gold in the darkness,
Trying to turn a corner toward hope.