William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Earth Natives

Moonlight, streetlight, starlight. I saw the skunk again, just as I was starting my run. With its tail held high, it was crossing the street from the yard of one neighbor to that of another. When I was done, I met it again coming down the driveway of the house just west of ours. This time its tail was down. In no hurry at all, it crossed the street again.

Bees in the brambles — a small swarm on the trail west beyond Goose Lake, warmed into activity by the morning sun. The second time we’ve seen them. Later in the day, one might have to take the long way around.

Mission Lake by the old cottonwood is almost completely green with algae. The ducks don’t seem to mind.

Many hazelnuts have fallen, and a few black walnuts.

Reading detail. I haven’t opened a book for around two weeks.

Caffeine detail. Twenty-four hours between yesterday’s six-ounce cup of coffee and today’s.

Full bloom detail. One bright-yellow dahlia.

Jade detail. Recently planted cuttings shining with health and adding first new leaves.

Eager detail. The house and the cedar form a narrow passageway a breeze from the west rushes to fill.

Fern detail. Those in the shade garden, and without which there would be no shade garden, appear to be natives, the same kinds we see in the park at Silver Falls. They plant and take care of themselves.

We are also natives — earth natives, by way of the stars. But there are still things we can learn from the bees, ducks, and ferns.

August 15, 2022


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Categories: A Few More Scratches

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