Cloud shadows slink among verdant hills
As winged scorpions speckle the air.
The modest murmur of breeze and wave
Is punctuated by staccato calls
Of feathered sentries, alarumed
By movements both broad and subtle.
A sudden stillness hijacks all,
Water rent astride by bow and oar.
A lone traveller, immune to life,
Slices the water in a multihued dugout;
Eye set on the horizon, oblivious
To anguished muscles and sinews,
Passing through the natural world
And yet so much a part of it.
Eddies left behind are enveloped
Quickly by unseen currents;
And all that was before
Is as it was again; peaceful, silent.
Hi, my name is Randy, and I am addicted to photos of bees. I think it all started back in 1923, when I took a job as a B-girl in Las Vegas…
And to prove I am not just about the flora and fauna, I present the people of Victoria…okay, just a handful, but it should give you an idea.
Some of the fine-feathered freeloaders I saw on my trip to Victoria.
Or the flowers of Victoria, to be more precise.
A few snaps from my wanderings around Canada’s jewel on the west coast and capital of British Columbia.
While moving my laptop back indoors from my brother’s back deck, I heard a noise from the cliff face above. A small family of deer were moving through the brush and seemed to be concerned about me not in the slightest.