Poppies, No Witnesses

A slope of poppies with nobody on the road below and nobody on the ridge above, and I did what any serious researcher does with an hour and total privacy: clothes on the passenger seat, camera on the tripod, and myself face down in the flowers like a person the meadow had grown. Sun on my back, stems ticking in the wind, the red so loud it has an acoustic. The frame keeps most of the secret. The hillside keeps the rest.