The apricot buds are still closed, but not as tightly. Those most advanced are showing little puffs of color — this, after the entire tree was encased in a thick coating of ice during the ice storm. The tree and I are cosmic relatives. We are different expressions of the same energy. Here is a junco, a wren. Clouds. Wind. We all are friends. Rejoice, the beating of wings, spring […]
A winding path. A temple without walls. The temple moves. The temple grows. February 25, 2021. . [ 1031 ]
The widest embrace is sweet anonymity. A star explained it to me. To live is to burn. And to love is to live brightly. “Sweet Anonymity”Recently Banned Literature, February 23, 2018 Canvas 1,159February 24, 2018 . [ 1030 ]
Power is restored — electricity has blown out the neighbor’s sweet wax candles. February 22, 2021 . Light Cannot Pass Light cannot pass between two hands clasped in prayer but it does wash over them and it runs down the arms and it drips from the elbows and it melts like wax on the floor. Songs and Letters, May 18, 2008 . [ 1029 ]
poor starling with the injured leg . . . I see you’re still eating just as well February 21, 2021 Canvas 847February 21, 2017 . [ 1028 ]
There is a mist now, softly falling, saying, Distance, dear one, is something you’ve imagined. People, things, mountains — peace, justice, joy — love, enlightenment — all are as immediate as these kisses I weave upon your face. What are miles, but a place to leave your burden beside the road? What is time, but an awkward counting towards the end of fear? And what is enlightenment, but needless proof […]
What holds this grand Cosmos in place? Laws, some will say, or, Gravity; others, Grace — while I imagine the kind face of a fiddler, caught up in his tune, holding you. February 19, 2021 . It’s All Local It’s all local — every concern, every accomplishment, every assault upon the earth and its inhabitants. The earth itself is a living, breathing inhabitant of something, if perhaps larger, every bit […]
. . . after the storm / birds on fallen limbs / as if they have always been / here . . . February 18, 2021 . [ 1025 ]
While trees ravaged by the ice storm can be seen in every direction, there are a great many that have come through unscathed. The young cedar in our little wilderness is one, as is the juniper, which will soon break into bloom. The pine, the branches of which were so weighted with ice that they hung by its side, has resumed its airy, elegant form, with only one small broken […]
The reading ebbs and flows. Lately it has slowed to a crawl. Or maybe it goes on by itself while the reader is otherwise occupied — except that the reader often is not occupied at all. In fact, the reader’s presence should not be assumed, although his body may be, for it serves as a kind of bookmark in the story that is the reader’s life. A great many stories […]
William Michaelian 