First Breath
Obsessive description of one’s experience A child’s first breath, unrecorded, unremembered Silence isn’t silence, only Silence is ~ [ 2119 ]
Wisteria
Night blooms — and something else you said. It moves — through my life, yes, and in my head. ~ [ 2118 ]
Through the Song
I walk until the poem is done come in and write it down and tho’ I soon forget the words I live them through the song ~ [ 2117 ]
Earnest Prayer
May I one day wake to find all my words have turned to cherry blossoms. ~ [ 2116 ]
Blossoming
I am what I am — a star, the cherry tree — an outstretched hand. ~ [ 2115 ]
Robin-Song
If sleep is life and death is waking up, the lightest dark and the darkest light is just enough. ~ [ 2114 ]
What of Now?
No TV or computer, only a piano and an old manual typewriter. All relationships were real: family, neighbors, friends; our chickens and our dogs. This was life on the farm in the Eighties before we moved to Oregon. Writing on paper, tapping out lines, learning songs on the piano. Working on the farm and in the garden. Glad when someone came by. Glad when they didn’t. And now — yes, […]
Currants
Red flowering currants, alive with bumblebees — that’s what a little warmth and sunlight will do, not forgetting, of course, the three hundred sixty-four days that led to this moment. Don’t you just love them? she said, and we stood talking for a while. My mother had dementia. I flew to Massachusetts every two to three months. There goes a hummingbird — the earth turning all the while. ~ [ […]
Walks and Whispers
Far to go, little to say — and the going, and the saying, are one. * Note: This might or might not be the first entry of a new section. We shall see. I’ve also enabled comments; that decision, too, remains up in the air. Then again, aren’t we all? ~ [ 2111 ]
The Little Mirror
Once upon a time, there was a little mirror. I think I’ll be a lake today, he said, and began to shimmer. A big white cloud floated overhead. What have we here? the cloud said, Looking at her reflection in the bright water, I’ve never seen anything so lovely. And all at once the lake became a mirror again. It made him feel helpless, and, truth be told, a little […]
William Michaelian 