William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Rain’

Air Apparent

Rain and high winds, the house thumped by fir branches, pelted with cones — a welcome cleansing. Let me not live with old thoughts on my lips, tired opinions, dull complaints, a negative outlook. Let me speak kindly or say nothing at all. December 11, 2021 . [ 1316 ]

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November

The mild rainy weather has given rise to a new generation of mold, creating a scented atmosphere as complex and alluring as a newly opened grave. November 15, 2021 . November The ear fills with sky-sounds, the eye with cloud-motion and leaf-fall. Distances are not what we think them at all, but blessings ripe and uncountable. The glad-spent remains of the summer garden are brought to the pile. Manure is […]

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Your Bird on Her Limb in the Rain

drop by drop on fallen leaves / music comes to a poem November 11, 2021 . Your Bird on Her Limb in the Rain Remember, when you describe something, you are really describing yourself. So be vivid. Describe well. The more clearly I see your bird on her limb in the rain, the more I will rejoice in your glorious spring. Recently Banned Literature, February 23, 2017 . [ 1285 […]

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Life, Death, Fall

This morning I finished Edward O. Wilson’s Naturalist. After lunch I read in Emerson’s journal about the death of his little boy, Waldo. Two months ago, I ordered Library of America’s forthcoming two-volume edition, Molière: The Complete Richard Wilbur Translations. Today I removed the plants from the pots, barrels, and planters behind the house. I also cleared the gutters, which were full to the brim with birch leaves and fir […]

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Poem

There is a seam in my glass mug, but no hem and no zipper. What holds the two edges together? What keeps the neck from raveling? The mug is wearing a glistening pendant with transparent chain: A bead of moisture suspended, a sweet drop of rain. Her skin is the color of coffee: trembling, scented, reflective. There is conversation: memory: faded print, falling away. October 25, 2021 . [ 1268 […]

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Movement, Breath, Miracle

In the canyon this morning, we were passed in small groups by three or four dozen runners preparing for trail events in November. Their ages spanned decades, and they were all happy, friendly, and smiling, and courteous to those of us walking, giving us ample warning of their approach from behind, thanking us when we had already noticed them coming and had stepped out of their way, and telling us […]

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Destruction and Joy

Finished early this morning: The Diversity of Life, by Edward O. Wilson. The leaves are changing in the canyon. Yesterday morning, all through our three-and-a-half-mile walk from North Falls to Winter Falls, to Twin Falls, and then back to North Falls and on to Upper North Falls, the canopy was dripping from the previous night’s rain. In fact, it was raining, but the rain itself was being absorbed well above […]

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Unplanned, Unrehearsed

For adventure, I need look no further than the changes in my body. I’m happy and fortunate it’s willing to have me along. Even my most basic habits need to be reexamined occasionally and held up to the light. Practical and beneficial as they may be, they all have the potential of becoming dead weight. In essence, they really shouldn’t be habits at all, but ideal, spontaneous acts born of […]

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Tenacious Fuzz

Out already for half an hour or so, the first person we met in the canyon early yesterday morning was a man we saw several days ago on the Perimeter Trail. Quiet, friendly, and about our age, he told us he retired last year, and that he hikes in the area about four times a week. With the stream rushing and the maples yellowing in the moss-moldy atmosphere recharged by […]

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You Will Forgive Me

Maybe I have changed. Clearing the downspouts of birch leaves in a light rain at fifty-three degrees while wearing shorts and short sleeves and being barefoot is something I have never done before. That I felt warm and completely comfortable while doing it is, I think, as good a sign as the early fall rain, which is drenching everything in fine winter style. Fifty-three, of course, is not cold. The […]

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