Beneath the pier
Long exposure beneath a pier at sunset, the pilings receding to a burning horizon.
Rivers the color of glass, waterfalls between red canyon walls, and still black swamps that double whatever leans over them.
Long exposure beneath a pier at sunset, the pilings receding to a burning horizon.
Turquoise water folds over a ledge between walls of red sandstone.
Fiery cypress doubled in still black swamp water.
Alpine lake mirroring a cabin, gold aspens, and snow-dusted Teton peaks.
The fog takes the sunset and spreads it everywhere at once — no sun, no horizon, just a shore breathing peach and lavender while the tide smooths the sand flat.
An inch of rain over the salt and the desert becomes sky — pink clouds above and below, mountains adrift on the seam, nothing moving but the light.
A cold-morning hush in Grand Teton National Park — the lake gone to glass, first snow resting on the boulder, and the sky lying down on the water to look at itself.
Sunset floods the Bonneville Salt Flats twice — once in the sky, once underfoot — and a lone walker crosses the seam between them while the last light burns red on the mountains.
Daylight is the lighthouse's day off — the white tower stands quiet over its green hill, red cap bright against a sky combed into feathers, the lamp resting until dark.