It’s Not Nothing

A visual haiku.

Walking the trail in late September waiting for the riot of autumn colors to emerge, something unusual caught my attention. Don’t strain your eyes looking for the central focal point of the image – there isn’t one.

Well there is, but it’s not like usual where there’s a single, obvious object as center of attention. Today it’s the absence of one. An unexpected break in the thick foliage alongside the trail formed a porthole looking out to a breathtaking green grassland (a wetland in rainier summers) shimmering in the sunshine. The tableau of sheen green, pistachio and bitter lemon in its leafy frame stops me. It’s like the space between the notes in a piece of music, the pause after a quick breath before the exhalation, the silence between two claps of thunder.

“late autumn —the emptiness between words"

Patrick Gilespe

I wonder what goes on in here when no one’s around. At dusk do the deer pick their way through as they head down to the lake for a drink? Are the feral cats from the neighborhood successfully hunting chippies and mice? Is this where the coyotes pick off the feral cats? Do the little people come out at night with their flutes and fiddles and dance?

Some night I’ll walk down here after dark and watch.