One shot. That’s all you get.
Magic abounds in San Miguel de Allende.
But it can be fleeting.
An open door.
A loving embrace.
A child’s smile.
A musician’s final note.
You are there. You happen upon the moment.
And you either lock it in your memory or …
… god forgive me, you pull out your camera.
The princess sat in Parque Juarez, near the gazebo.
Her face went to that place that princesses so often go to
When men dressed all in black with lights and baffles and screens
Scurry around her, trying to capture the fading light at dusk.
Her eyes turn inward, her thoughts go to … where?
A mantra? A shopping list? A party invite? A lover?
A magic spell to cast over her portraiture minions?
A first glimpse of her is through the vee
In this ancient split-trunk pine.
She could have been a woodland fairie,
Queen of the forest,
Mistress of the mystical realm.
Mab, Titania, Oonagh, Gloriana, Diana
The Queen of Elphame.
Meliae or Dryad, those Greecian nymphs of ashes and oaks.
But, more, a beautiful woman with sadness about her
As she waited for that special moment.
To come alive,
To conjure enchantment, and send it to the lens.
Immortalizing the fairie princess in her sylvan realm.
Real. Not real.
Magical, all the same.