Cancal Pier at Night in the fog
no more need be said
There was a time
well at least I thought there was
that I was deeply loved.
For thirty three years I dreamed a dream
that those I loved with an abiding faith deeply cared for me.
There was a painful shock and the foundation of my life was shaken. I poured my soul into repairing the damage done. Bitter tears flowed, and fear ruled my heart but healing came, at least for a time. It appeared that light, love and compassion were back.
Pain however come roaring back, and I was abandoned, There was such pain that divorce and my families love were taken from me. I had no idea how to deal with that. All of which drove those I deeply loved far from me, and now half a decade later I am left to die in this hellish landscape.Hoping for compassion, but afraid it will not come.
One morning a few autumns ago my pilot friend Jim, bundled a bleary eyed photographer, into a small chilly single engine plane. It was misty cold morning towards the end of October. We took off, just as dawn broke and by the time we were 500 feet in the air I was no longer sleepy, I was enthralled. Below me was were the farmlands and hills of Southern Ontario painted with the colours of fall and wrapped here and there in a mist filled with long shadows cast by the rising sun.
The view was breathtaking, and I captured many photographs in the next hour and a half that are the best I have ever taken.
Here in a small valley, in the Caledon Hills, the fog, illuminated by the low sun gave a modern cluster of building a mysterious look, as if we were looking down into an ancient landscape, from hundred of years in the past.
We watched in awe as the sun broke the horizon painting the morning mist golden pouring its radiance over fields and through autumn’s painted trees gently waking the land still wrapped in the wisps of last nights dreams