How does a child learn to lie? It’s in the air, it’s in your eye. Word-drift. Intonation. Body language. Sigh. And when, a short time later, is disbelieved, is brought to deceive, little by little, by and by. . We were on a first-name basis. Now we just smile and nod when the wind blows. . Read the thirty-seventh chapter of Middlemarch. Moved daffodils from the plastic pot they’d bloomed […]
Early April, and we’re still flirting with snow. A couple of days ago, we had two brief hailstorms, the latter of which turned the ground white and bowed some daffodils to the ground, while others, in their white shoes and yellow shawls, stood tall and seemed ready to march up the hill. How strange that would have been. But they stayed where they were, encouraging the others to stand. . […]
Rowanberries and cedar waxwings — it’s time to plant the daffodils. . [ 1592 ]
I haven’t raked the leaves from under the maples, or those that are piled deep beneath the big rhododendron by the front door. What’s living in, on, and under them plays a far more important role in the local ecology than any so-called neatness I might achieve. The walk is swept. The flowerbed is ready for spring. That’s enough tidiness. Behind the house, the irises are pushing, and an abundance […]
I spent part of yesterday afternoon weeding the front slope. Leaning against the mossy retaining wall, I did the work by hand, one weed at a time, my right hand pulling, my left planted firmly on the ground. As I went along, I also used my right hand as a rake, massaging every inch of the moist, aromatic soil, my hand being massaged in return. This went on for an […]
There is talk of more snow. The mossy wall. The crocus. The daffodil. February 11, 2021 Oku no HosomichiJanuary 23, 2017 . [ 1017 ]
At the table — linen napkins, fine crystal — flesh to recall cave times. Dancing lambs in a sunny field — mothers cry to daffodils. Home from the war — in a coffin — in the night — whippoorwills. Give Us This Day The house on the hill has a song behind its door each morning someone lets it out out of kindness the song flaps up to the […]
High water has driven the homeless from their encampment on the west side of the river. In that place alone, they number in the hundreds. They turn up everywhere — downtown, in parks, under bridges, in the public library, in the hospital half-starved and with nasty infections. Moss grows on asphalt. Daffodils make way for tulips. How high is high moral ground? What is it like to live there? No […]
The weather term wintry mix makes me think of a salad without cucumbers and tomatoes, with carrots and cabbage and kale and lettuce of various curls and crinkles and hues, and perhaps an orange slice or two. On the street, though, with the wind in my face while climbing the hill, I’m not met by tangy vegetables and apple cider vinegar, but with rain and ice and snow. Clumps and […]
William Michaelian 