Note: To operate the camera, cradle your life in such a way, standing above it, and in it, looking down, through it, and all around, from childhood to dawn, then press the button that takes the picture — and be sure not to frown, when you realize you forgot the film. . Thoreau’s journal, entries for March 2 and March 4, 1854. The First Bluebird. Golden Senecio Leaves. The Melting […]
A new day breaking into bloom. Dust in my room. Waltz with my broom. . [ 1762 ]
If happiness and joy could be summoned with effort, just think how happy and joyful we would be; still we try, and are undone by trying; what made me think of this? a cloudy, misty dawn; my heart beating; the universe rolling on . . [ 1758 ]
A full, ripe moon over the wetland. Someday, maybe I will write like that. . [ 1737 ]
Dawn. An orange, smoky sky. When the world ends, won’t you come to see me by and by? . [ 1548 ]
I was sitting on the front step at first light, just as the robins were beginning to sing, when I noticed the soft, blurry shape of an animal a few feet away under the lacy green maple. Was it a cat? No. It was a raccoon. I stood up. Surprised to find someone so near, it quickly moved away. I sat down again. More light. More robins. More light-robins. More […]
Warm days, clear nights. The junco babies are frantic with hunger, and keeping both of their parents busy bringing food to the nest. The early-morning watering ceremony continues. Frantic, yes — but when evening comes all grows quiet and the birds sleep through the night, their tiny bodies resting and growing until dawn wakes them again. Circadian perfection will guide them all of their lives, while we torture and punish […]
A slow run in the cold starry hour before dawn — up the hill, past the old couple’s crocuses still closed for the night, looking like color specialty shops where love models scarves and little boys wonder about their mother’s soft moles — to the corner, and then an eastward turn, ’neath streetlights that die as they burn — proud and solemn, trees without arms — without arms, without arms, […]
William Michaelian 