Girl and Horse 1928
You are younger than I am, you are
someone I never knew, you stand
under a tree, your face half-shadowed,
holding the horse by its bridle
Why do you smile? Can't you
see the apple blossoms falling around
you, snow, sun, snow, listen, the tree
dries and is being burnt, the wind
is bending, your body, your face
ripples like the water where did you go
But no, you stand there exactly
the same, you can't hear me forty
years ago, you were caught by light
and fixed in that secret
place where we live, where we believe
nothing can change, grow older.
(On the other side of the picture,
the instant is over, the shadow
of the tree has moved.
You wave
then turn and ride out of sight
through the vanished orchard,
still smiling
as though you did not notice)
Margaret Atwood
(photo is of my mother, Florence Greene, in 1927, at Griffiths Park in Los Angeles, Calif.)