In Flagstaff Garden’s tempered light
He turns, a shield against the air;
Feathers arc like frozen flame,
And silence gathers at his stance.
The city blurs to watching eyes,
Its hours loosen, briefly stilled.
Old rhythms press through modern ground,
And grass remembers older feet.
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I bet the costumes are very colorful. Very nice photo.
ReplyDeleteHe is so proud of handling his shield. Great portrait. Also like the words of your description.
ReplyDeleteVery good
ReplyDeleteHe's shy hiding behind the shield! :-D
ReplyDeleteCada cop m'agraden més aquest rituals.
ReplyDeleteSalutacions!
Wonderful shot and detail on the costume. Thank you for linking up.
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful costume, Roentare!
ReplyDeleteWonderful outfit! It makes me want to dress like an Aztec.
ReplyDeleteExcellent shot.
ReplyDelete