How I love telephone poles and wires in the fall. The mellowing browns and blacks are extraordinary. The looping, parabolic curves bring me to my knees. The cross bars, insulators, joint-boxes and transformers -- all natural -- share my rapt attention. I barely see the no parking signs and streets of asphalt and cement. Somehow they represent life eternal while the trees and flowers discolor, die and fall behind them, barely noticed.
No comments:
Post a Comment