Snapping the Young with an Old Camera
If lately all your snappingıs
been with cell-phone, taking up
the old camera film!
makes for wasteful costly trouble.
Forgetting to fiddle with the lens focus
ensures whatever you point it at
will come out blurred. And that,
after youıve paid the camera shop.
But part way through the childrenıs party
the routine reasserts itself;
from now on any blurred images
will be the kidsı in action.
Action they provide: Michael,
at seven, constantly forgets that
because itıs his party he has
hostly duties beside his Mum,
and darts off with his great mate Bill
to raid the party food table
while the docile others form a ring,
perform old rituals hand in hand,
and paired as three-legged runners
hobble, laugh, and stumble on the turf.
Several great snaps in all that.
And in the great wide trees overhead,
here in the English-style Botanics
of this old goldfields town,
some in full blossom, like this,
said to be an Indian bean tree.
Crouched in the lakeside arbour
Iıve sliced the watermelon;
moist dust-motes are dropping on the bowl
last nightıs thunderstorm slightly relieved
the drought; arbour and gardens
are still moist. Midmorning sunshine
begins park-wide evaporation,
dappling every snappable vista.
Rather than guard the fruit from birds,
Iıll go stand by the tethered pup,
who yearns towards the childrenıs games
so vigorously heıs tramped his paws
deep in the rose-plotıs black mulch.
She, whose dog it is, snaps on,
raids my pockets for more film,
sends off me and dog to guard the cake.
Itıs on the furthest table, vulnerable to
birds and children. Here they come at last,
clamouring for the feasting. Share the cordial,
light the candles, sing the song.
21 November 2007
Max Richards
Castlemaine, Vic./Doncaster, Vic.
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