Digital is faster, immediate, easy and cheap.
Gave my old Nikon to a collector, needed
to know it’s cherished. Got too heavy anyway
for an old photographer with a dodgy heart
and doubtful knees, no longer trekking across
the Andes at 4000 meters. They say the new way
lacks soul. You get what you put in.
Nothing is more reliable than change.
The album’s pages have yellowed some,
moisture made some photos stick. Here are my feet
kicking up a carpet woven by the fall guy, now covered
in liquid honey spreading towards the darker verges
of the evening road. Ireland in glorious
technicolor swashes, the wind seeming to whisk
the leaves up to a céilí played by unseen musicians
hidden in dark clouds of portent. Before I turn
the page, I can’t help but remember the shadows
which ate our light. That’s the way it was.