Anchored by the slim trunk, sandwiched between the spaces...there is
a tentative intimacy to this image, for me. A feeling not so different
from coming across a fawn in the forest. Almost a chance encounter.
A sudden movement and he scampers into the brush.
I love this photo for the silent communion between photographer and
small creature. The blanket of ground cover...the depth of the woods
...a still silence in the Fleeting Moment...the Right Moment to depress
I feel the urge to brush aside the blurred leaves of the foreground.
Close enough to touch...just extend the arm and shove to the right
...step forward with the left foot...and the image vanishes...nothing
but a handful of leaves and the illusion of having shared something
a moment ago.
The Fleeting Moment.
(Matthew T. Joyce)