Grains of sand blow in the wind, their very sameness reflecting unique patterns, their own individuality lost to the great whole of driven life.
A desert world, tan, shifting, bland,
A trillion trillion grains of sand,
Dry crystals go where winds say go,
Cleave to none save airs that blow.
Whisper and roll, undulating waves,
With fluid dynamics aggregate behaves,
Then meets true water, changes its face,
Grains cling tightly in clumping embrace.
Appearance changes with mixed content,
Not only tan now, by wet prism bent,
Colors come through in stunning arrays,
Changing new lights’ refraction plays.
Holds quite solid ‘til dry winds bring
Brittle to glue, particle takes wing,
Rides frilly gust’s lifting air,
Piles on other bits in gritty flair.
Joins once again an indeterminate cast,
Sameness cobbled on ubiquitous last,
One grain defined by the restless whole,
Little meaning save smallness of soul.
Poetry. Various urgent, lively, and sometimes haunting poems appear here alongside stark black and white photos of Jones' homeless subjects. Jones takes on the plight of the homeless in different voices, echoing the thoughts of people on the streets,
Very well done...the image is great too.
Gina
-Bear