Skip to main content
Menu

Wayne Lynch at Possum Creek, 1969

by John Witzig

Wayne Lynch at Possum Creek, 1969

Idyllic is the word. In a dappled ferny forest we’ve come upon a golden youth who’s been there, enchanted, since time immemorial. We strain to see his face but he doesn’t turn; he doesn’t speak; he’s transfixed by the patterns the thin branch makes as he flicks it on the water. We steal away.