Not a remarkable wind.
So when the bistro’s patio umbrella
blew suddenly free and pitched
into the middle of the road,
it put a stop to the afternoon.
Something white and amazing
was blocking the way.
A waiter in a clean apron
appeared, not quite
certain, shielding his eyes, wary
of our rumbling engines.
He knelt in the hot road,
making two figures in white, one
leaning over the sprawled,
broken shape of the other,
and now so carefully gathered in.
– Mike Whte
I took a walk over to the Talent Harvest Festival but didn’t find anything too earth shaking. On the way home I encountered this sidewalk umbrella dancing in the wind with the trees. Not white, not yet in the road but still in harmony with the poem. I am now 1/4 of the way into the 100 days project and starting to wonder what I have done to myself. I felt a little silly going out to photograph when I still have hundreds of images to sift through from New England. But then, if I hadn’t gone out, I would not have encountered the pink striped umbrella.