William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Maples’

Three Miles

The new vaccines are not simply vaccines. They are an expression of collective fear, an environmental and moral crisis, a religion, a philosophy, an idea, a way of looking at and living in the world. As such, they are blind expedients; their value is temporary, questionable; their long-term effects unknown. Death is and will always be near. I would rather walk in the rain and stand in a waterfall. January […]

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Fall Postcard

The dogwood is a beautiful red this year. If I were to make myself invisible and walk up to it ever so slowly, and then give the tree a shake, birds would scatter in every direction, a fluttering eruption of bright grosbeaks and chickadees there for the seed. Then, seeing nothing, they would soon return, some from the cedar, some from the maple, some from the birch. And I would […]

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The Horizontal Life

Here in the time of yellowing maples and drifting leaves, the falls and streams are charged with new life by the recent thunderstorms. Numerous spiderwebs cross the path, so fine that one is not aware of them until they are broken in passing through; removed from around the forehead and eyes, parts still cling; or maybe it is the memory of their touch that has not quite died away. At […]

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Amazing Grace

Early morning. From North Falls to Winter Falls via the Rim Trail, then down into the canyon, still in shadow. Soon after beginning the descent we meet a raven as big as the next two or three crows, its beak and head capable of lunacy and wisdom, prophecy and mayhem. Its flight up from the path to a mossy low maple branch is an action deliberately made and slowly taken, […]

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Grace, Rights, Privileges

Back to the falls. In the dry chilly atmosphere, mosquitoes nod from their bar stools, too numb to bite. The old maples along the stream are moss-covered enchantment. One leans far over the water, clinging to the eroded path with exposed gnarled roots, watched over closely by another concerned for its welfare, each knowing the demise of the other would bring it more light — a study in grace, a […]

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Colophon

The tragedy of opinion is that it is mistaken for truth. The tragedy of truth is that it is mistaken for opinion. July 25, 2017   Colophon and here facing east on a maple leaf a blue dragonfly passed the night Recently Banned Literature, July 25, 2017 [ 817 ]

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I Go Sparkling

I know someone who has a beautiful garden, with a barn, a path, many squirrels, and a broom. In the garden, she moves rocks around. And the rocks respond: they summon light and shade, night, rain, snow; and they hold each beyond the winking lives of them. I do the same with small smooth river stones. Today, near our jade plants, at the east end of the flowerbed by the […]

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Time Out

Instead of walking early this morning, I spent an hour and a half watering and tending the garden. It takes time to visit everyone, to top a dahlia here, touch a dewdrop on a maple sprout there, pick a pint of strawberries, count the Agapanthus blooms, marvel at the number of new cones high up in the firs, admire the smooth stones in the shade garden — but of course […]

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