Confession Knowing this place to be not hurried, I came for darkness – for the temporary shading and softening of shadows, the thought of cold, night air moving in, its thickness settling and staying for the duration of sky or as long as it was needed. Stories must be told and retold many times. Forgive me, but this is how I remember.
Sarah Rehfeldt lives with her family in western Washington where she is a writer, artist, and photographer. Her poems have appeared in Presence; Blueline, Appalachia; and Weber – The Contemporary West. She finds inspiration in the close-up world of macro nature photography. Favorite subjects include her garden; the forest; cloudscapes; and the ever-plentiful raindrops of western Washington. You can view her photography web pages at: www.pbase.com/candanceski
Amethyst Review 