The known.

Meadow, bloom, and mounds of rubbled stone
Compose the panorama called "Springflowers."
We see what the photographer alone
Has seen, but as we look we make it ours.
Six-petaled stars (I cannot name their name)
Come forth amid long, broad-stemmed spears of grass
That with the season's vigor fill the frame
I enter gladly. Down a path I pass
Enjoying sudden glints from rocks, the sun,
The warming air--even a distant view
The lens could not observe, having but one
Intention as the shutter closed: being true
To this small swath of earth, where I am shown
Such permanence as I have never known.