A Picture Hides A Thousand Words

While I was arranging my advent center-piece

the dried black beans I soaked overnight boiled over. 

(every so often I soak a bunch, then cook and freeze them)

It doesn't seem to matter how big a pot I use they will boil over 

into a black mess on the stove!

It's just ridiculous how much foam they create!

So, as serene as the centerpiece appears, all by itself

it sits among the mess and hub-bub of life

and the smell of burnt bean-water in the burner😆

Reminded me of the drama of taking family-photos

which for us is not an annual event!

First there's the, 'what shall I WEAR?!!

To the 'you're not wearing That, are you?! 

to Mom, does this look okay?

 to 'how's my hair?'

 to, mom's hesitant query to the nonchalant one; are you...ready??? 

and the not-hesitant 'yup'!.

SO much more than meets the eye goes into The Family Photo!

But. It . Happened.

Thanks to a nice November Sunday

and super photographer Brittany Ruppert 

for all her amazing farm animal noises which kept

children and adults distracted/relaxed/laughing/smiling!

(the reason Victoria is just about dying of laughter on every photo)😂😂

A picture hides a thousand words 

Behind its tidy guiles 

Is so much more than seen or heard 

In polished, paper smiles 

A picture only snares a glimpse 

We siphon from the mess 

To capture from the chaos, glints 

Of arranged happiness 

Oh, Brant 'Johnny' dear, don’t cross your eyes 

Quick, click the shutter please 

Where, fingers crossed, we snare a prize 

Midst disharmonic ‘c-h-e-e-e-se’ 

A photo (do not be deceived) 

By that which visage meets/metes 

For meek, sweet stance is oft achieved 

Through threats or promised treats 

Now everybody, one-two-three 

Oh no! I laughed-blinked-sneezed 

And ho, he thinks I didn’t see 

What Mister Kissed-her squeezed 

I’m thankful for the memento 

Of precious photograph 

I’m thankful that they only show 

The quiet, composed half 

I’m thankful for the keepsakes of 

Seasons soon turned to Was 

While time steals days but never love 

In spite of all it does 

I’m thankful for the sweet half-lie 

In tidy, pretty pose 

Of so much more than meets the eye 

…unless you are a rose 

I'm thankful for moments that smiled

Midst life's rough-tumble ways 

As we capture for morrow's child

Snapshots of Good Old Days

© Janet Martin