The first thing to remember is that the ants were here before we were. The house we live in was built on top of their house. That they find their way inside during the winter is inevitable, as they seek warmth, moisture, and food. This does not make them invaders or enemies. And so to treat them as such is an unenlightened response that mimics American history in particular, and […]
Not far into this morning’s run, from about two houses away, I startled a pair of coyotes, which saw me before I saw them and dashed off through a neighbor’s front yard and around the corner out of sight. Had they come my way instead, they would have been immediately upon me, and I could have told them that I wasn’t one of those setting off fireworks most of the […]
Thus far it’s a warm winter, the coldest temperatures only flirting with frost. This is why I’m waiting to rake out the debris behind our little shed. The two times I’ve tried, several weeks ago, I was stung by a hornet, once on the left eyelid, once on my wrist just above the edge of my glove. It seems there must be a nest buried in the fir needles against […]
Ah, for those precious moments alone, with every dream, every hope, and each imagined failing. As if for the first time, you see your house on the edge of the moor, suppertime done, the dim lamps burning; it’s almost on a hill. You close your eyes, and hug the gnarled trunk: your father, the wind in his hair. How young he once was! How old he is now! And your […]
We make our music, and play our way to dusk; when the mists gather, we seek the warm glow of the hearth. Late at night, one by one, the coals close their eyes. The train flies west. We hear it through our open window. No sleep. Only peace, flight, breath. Grandpa said he’d be right back. He was talking about the sun, I guess. ~ [ 2004 ]
Rest in Peace — I’ve no fondness for the saying. It would make far better sense, when babies are born, To say, Live in Peace, and to conduct ourselves In such a way that the rest will be assured. . [ 1808 ]
Each time they met, they bowed to one another and uttered not a word. They were old by then. When one of them died, they went on bowing just the same. And somehow when the other died, their bowing remained. Cane in hand, I thought, I’ve known men who were just like trees. . [ 1794 ]
I run so early in the morning I’m seldom met or passed by a car. When I am, I’m amazed all over again at how much pollution even one vehicle generates. It happened this morning, when I was overtaken by a small late-model pickup as we moved towards the stop sign by the fig tree. As I ran through the fumes, I took shallow breaths until I was clear of […]
William Michaelian 