Tune In Photography

folded waves whisper
salty secrets
break ashore
then fade into blue

I’m checking the meter,
I’m playing the part,
Of the man who mistakes a cold ridge for a heart.

Don’t ask time to announce itself. It never does. It arrives the way snow settles on the hills before dawn, quietly, touching ridgelines, fields, forgotten paths as if testing whether we are ready to notice its presence.

If you feel the ground beneath these words, you may want to see what it looks like. The photos carry the rest of the story right here:

https://tuneinphotography.wordpress.com/2026/01/04/nestled-among-the-hills/