Snow and ice crunching under his boots, and a strange gray reflection
rippling across the creek, with deer tracks on the other side.
He paused, zipping up his coat a little further,
watching the trees bend.
He remembered traveling through time
hunting for visions with bows
and an occasional feather,
but it was long ago
so instead, in his reflection
by the creek,
he took some pictures.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies