A brisk walk this morning instead of a slow run. Farther, faster. How interesting. How odd. And then there were the robins, singing in the dark. One was on the sidewalk, absorbed in his song. As I went around him, he didn’t stop once. He seemed helpless, almost. Imagine that much music in your throat. . [ 1743 ]
I run so early in the morning I’m seldom met or passed by a car. When I am, I’m amazed all over again at how much pollution even one vehicle generates. It happened this morning, when I was overtaken by a small late-model pickup as we moved towards the stop sign by the fig tree. As I ran through the fumes, I took shallow breaths until I was clear of […]
What does the robin sing to the moon? Farewell? Don’t go? I’m here? Soft clouds? Or does he sing to the moon at all? My Joy? My life? My love? . [ 1435 ]
One street over, there’s a light that’s crowded ’round by a flowering wild cherry. Running past, the stars still out, it looks like the light itself ’s in bloom. Maybe this is why the robins sing at such an early hour — and why, When my heart and lungs are full with scent and sound, My feet, at least for a little while, don’t quite touch the ground. . [ […]
My reading has slowed to a crawl. I love it as much as ever, and possibly even more, but sitting and I are no longer the friends we once were. The body craves movement, and the more movement I give it, the more free and flexible it becomes. Still, there is James Baldwin. Thus far I’ve read over three hundred pages of his penetrating and insightful essays, and am near […]
William Michaelian 