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Easy this morning
walking the sands blown
by the south-easterly drawn
by light flaring from land and sea
rocks ephemeral as clouds.
Renaissance artists
used white of egg
to snare such luminosity
hallowing the mundane.
I use infrared
and darkroom alchemy
light reversed blocks
my enlarger beam and lo –
white clouds scud
on a black sea and rock
is clothed in radiance
bright as beaten egg white.
At stream edge
wind-sleeked terns
are mirrored in wet sand.
Cliffs collapse patterns
form and writhe
and form beneath flowing waters.
Nothing is as seems
or lasts.
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© Rose Allan
Published in Antipodes, A North American Journal of Australian Literature, Jan 2007
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