William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Light-Robins

I was sitting on the front step at first light, just as the robins were beginning to sing, when I noticed the soft, blurry shape of an animal a few feet away under the lacy green maple. Was it a cat? No. It was a raccoon. I stood up. Surprised to find someone so near, it quickly moved away. I sat down again. More light. More robins. More light-robins. More robins lighting the day.

Once upon a time, I was a small boy with a baseball glove. But I felt big and fast and strong.

If you know money’s not the answer, then, for heaven’s sake, don’t pretend that it is.

If you think money is the answer, then ask yourself a different, more pertinent question.

A few days ago, I planted six new jade cuttings (just made, without roots) in a twelve-inch clay-colored plastic pot. They’re happy with a daily sprinkling from our grandson’s little blue watering can.

He’s eleven now. He too feels big and fast and strong.

And I feel small — infinitely, gratefully, small.

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Categories: A Few More Scratches

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