New Year, Winged Light by ©2025Ocean Eversley
I greet the new year
as if light itself might bruise
if touched without reverence.
The world leans forward,
asking to be seen.
Photography has taught me
how to listen with my eyes,
how to wait for the breath
between waves,
how beauty arrives
in its own time.
On the year’s first morning,
snow entered the frame—
not spectacle,
but presence.
A quiet instruction
in receiving the moment as is.
Above the winter shoreline,
the seagulls lift—
gracious citizens of sky and earth,
their wings fluent in wind,
their cries stitching air to water.
They know the geometry of return,
how to belong everywhere
without owning anything.
Art, like flight,
asks for courage and surrender.
It asks that I trust the unseen currents,
that I frame wonder
without confining it.
Each image becomes a prayer
made of patience and light.
So I step into this new year
with snow still arriving,
salt in my breath,
a camera in my hands,
and gratitude in my heart—
for beauty that is here,
for wings that teach me
how to rise
without leaving the earth.