We threw our words overboard, only to find that they’d become anchors, and that our ship wouldn’t move; then they became fish: we cast a great net: around it they swam, and through; they leap’d to the heavens, were shimmering stars in the blue; then one by one they fell; they’re falling still; and each that lands is true. . [ 1801 ]
Were I to name the wildflowers, they would go on being wild, and I would become a little less so. Along the rim trail, and deep in the north end of the dustless, green canyon, is an abundance of delicate flowers, poised on tender stems, calling out to the bees and butterflies in scented voices and soft hues. Some look like tiny stars; some have large petals; some hold up […]
It’s indicative of character, I think, that beyond my immediate family, my dearest, closest friends are people I’m unlikely ever to meet in the flesh, and who live hundreds or thousands of miles away. It’s also indicative of the times, for without social media, email, and online publishing, chances are great that our paths would never have crossed. As it is, the number is still small. I have many acquaintances, […]
Listen — even this low, the stream above North Falls sings of abundance. . [ 1582 ]
When the river’s low and seems lazy and unconcerned, Memory’s a winding path through the old cottonwoods on the floodplain. Come back in spring. Be here for the reckoning. . [ 1564 ]
green water / blue heron /gray sky a breath sooner or later green water / gray sky . [ 1563 ]
The Goose Lake trail. Autumn scents. Ripe blackberries. Words said, none written. Wild carrots. Spent thistle. Chicory in bloom. August 14, 2022 . [ 1520 ]
William Michaelian 