Night

The night calms my soul.
The day makes my soul in turmoil.
The night is peace and calm.
The day is strife and toil.
Some fear the night.
Some hate the day.
I alone embrace the night.
My soul is right.
I am the night.

Lonesome day

Its the kind of day where its too cold to fish, too cold to be on the water, too wet to be outside. The cold and wet creeps into your bones and buries itself deep. Yet here I am out on the Lake shore looking at the fog encase the railroad bridge. Wondering how it was that I ended up here, at the end of the road facing Lake Pontchartrain when I could be at home, warm, dry and comfortable. It was the kind of day that soul deemed it needed the salt air, the feel of the moist air on the skin, the wind whipping through the hair and

the camera in the hand, capturing the lone railroad bridge jetting up through the fog.

Nouveau means New.
Canal Street

looking up at a Palm tree on Canal Street.

I’m standing in the same spot that I took the black and white of in 2005. The trees are no longer there. They were taken out by Hurricane Katrina.

4/2013

Black & White of the Eagle’s Nest Reserve
4/2005