Beyond Words
a new day . . . because only light can describe the dance of these insects . [ 1451 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Morning’
At Such an Early Hour
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 ]
Morning Tea
After sipping icy water spiced by moss-crowned leaves, the robin flies from the birdbath to the fence-top for a meeting with the squirrel. When they arrive, they find the sun already waiting at the spot. Welcome to my secret hideaway, says he. I’m surprised you found it. Then the clouds move, and the sun, the robin, and the squirrel disappear. And here we find the poet, not quite ready, in […]
Nothing Like Love
I first clicked “like” in 2010. I have no idea how many times I have clicked it since then, but it surely numbers in the thousands. When we lived on the farm, I clicked “like” in another way — with a pair of sturdy wooden-handled pruning shears. I clicked my way through the damp, foggy winters, up and down rows of vines and trees. Those clicks may well have numbered […]
Morning Call
When it’s time to rest, let your sleep be death. And if you wake, let surprise be your infinite gratitude. November 4, 2021 . [ 1278 ]
How, of a Morninge
Goose Lake. A dense fog, the cottonwoods dripping, the oaks, the cherries, the brambles, the berries. For the first time in a year we are able to walk to the water’s edge. This end of the lake is very shallow and full of decaying lilies, between which can be seen the mossy bottom just inches below. Quiet. Few birds are out, and none are chattering or calling from the immediate […]
Treble and Bass
Shall I spend what remains of my precious time merely agreeing or disagreeing with everyone I meet and with every piece of information that comes my way? Would this not keep me in a state of perpetual opinion, sure I am right, and therefore willfully blind? Or shall I work to remain open, and tremble and sway with life as it passes through me and around me, like the trees? […]
From Sleep to the Precipice
Are we on the precipice? Are we already falling? Who can tell? October 5, 2021 . From Sleep to the Precipice This morning, like every morning, there is no greater surprise than being here — not that I know where here is, or if or who I am. And if I did, then maybe there would be no feeling of surprise at all — or maybe the surprise would be […]
You Can See It All From Here
Having been granted this breath, I would be embarrassed to ask for anything more. Without it, there is nothing more. With it, as familiar as it seems, this glorious early morning summer scent is more than I can describe or define. It describes and defines me. It is the cosmic fruit, honey, and grain that sustains. It is the means and the way. Now, if only there is something I […]
William Michaelian 