Lately

I have taken
to seeing things
just at the corner
of my eyes.

Not so much
all of the time
like when talking
to you over tea,

but metaphorically
and when I am viewing
from across a field
let's say, like that

old Meeting House
in Rocky Hill -
Massachusetts I believe -
where I began learning

to take pictures through
the looking glass windows
of old places locked off
for whatever reasons

from modern souls -
who need them more
than honey bees need
water on hot days.

I love the way things
behind the photographer
appear at angles and often
sharper in detail than

the very subject the lens
calls us to see first (and we
strive to rectify the straightness
of all else by) subconsciously.

And, I am sure there's the thing;
what happens in the refraction
of the behind-glance is where I enter
into the subconscious.  It

is the beginning of the
journey down and in.  And,
that has become the mainstay
of life - at least after 50.

I mean, what lay ahead -
in the fore - is beautiful for sure;
but, it is the pulling into of all
the surround that confounds

this immediate with everything.