Little Town, America

Little Town, America

It’s 26 degrees with some wind as I’m walking to the bank and post office this morning.¬†There’s something I can’t really explain yet right there on the snow-covered ground right under my feet. A myriad shadows that wake me from a pseudo-sleepy walk. I look to the left and, sure enough, the big tree I’m now looking at plays tricks on me as I keep on walking toward the park’s gazebo. My eyes squint and close. I stop. In a blink of a eye, I zip my jacket’s right pocket open and grab my Lumix camera. The light is splendid and strong-almost loud. I fire up a dozen shots as I move to consider multiple angles of the sun coming through the branches. As if waving, the flag suddenly comes alive and gives the moment a feeling of glory with its red, white and blue colors. It’s a very simple picture. So simple it almost speaks of humility. But this simplicity is that of peace and love. Two things dear to my heart when I think of Camden, NY. Little Town, America speaks of a friendly acquaintance. Someone we can count on when trouble strikes. Little Town, America-dear to my heart.

 

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