Some posts write themselves almost without your help.
Others hide in the corner of the room, unwilling to show themselves to the light of day.
We all encounter those kind.
My favourite of course are those that demand to be written, and help guide your fingers as you type.
Those are lovely.
No checking for mistakes, no backspacing, worrying, explaining.
Each word tripping over it’s self as it eagerly lines up on the screen.
Some shots are easy, some shots are hard.
Some of them make me work until I think I can’t do it anymore.
It’s all part of learning.
Some days my walk is easier then others.
On some I find treasures that delight my soul.
Feathers, a good angle for a shot, a branch, a leaf.
There are bits of joy, moments of bird song in the darkening day, the sun sinking sullenly in a peach colored sky.
Proclaiming it’s self all grown up, and it’s too early to go to bed.
But the birds are tired, it’s cold.
It’s been a long day.
Now go gently into the night, let the shadows out to play.
The moon will be the one to walk me back home.