so special about a moment that can be perfectly described by a poem you once read. Or a song you once heard, maybe even knew.
This picture was almost one of those moments. It reminds me of a Carl Sandburg poem. Almost, but not quite. Close enough, I'd say.
After the last red sunset glimmer,
Black on the line of a low hill rise,
Formed into moving shadows, I saw
A plowboy and two horses lined against the gray,
Plowing in the dusk the last furrow.
The turf had a gleam of brown,
And smell of soil was in the air,
And, cool and moist, a haze of April.
I shall remember you long,
Plowboy and horses against the sky in shadow.
I shall remember you and the picture
You made for me,
Turning the turf in the dusk
And haze of an April gloaming.
(Never mind that this was taken in November.)