This morning, half an hour before sunrise, I heard two mourning doves: one across the street, calling from the neighbor’s fir tree; the other on the street south of ours, from the dense pine in front of a house sold a year or two ago by the elderly couple who used to live there. Early morning. Birds. Trees. And so the note I wrote August 1, 2018, already has that […]
heavy dew . . . bare feet / sunrise / hummingbird / watering can . . . . [ 1825 ]
Measurement, time, comparison, definition — how quickly they fade when I step outside and face the rising sun with my eyes closed. Is reality real, is truth true, when I am suffused with a warm, yellow glow? . [ 1734 ]
Can I be so free of belief that I’m surprised by the sunrise? Or, should I say, by the smile in your eyes? . [ 1653 ]
a few last sweet peas a hummingbird at sunrise a drink and a breeze August 3, 2022 . [ 1509 ]
Star detail. Northbound clouds, lit by a sun an hour from rising. Clover detail. Leaves cool, and only slightly damp. Spider detail. A web from jade to fern. Breath detail. The boundless, timeless happening of oneself. Zen detail. Unique, like everything and everyone else. The same, in a different way. Inseparable as peace and the gentle eyes of a cow, as joy and the sound of her bell. July 30, […]
Call me old-fashioned, but when it comes to clocks, I far prefer the sun. It’s faithful and reliable, but not insistent. It acts one way in the forest, another in the desert, or on the valley floor. North, south — who could ask for more? Early? Late? For heaven’s sake — what is living for? . [ 1403 ]
Hot days. Warm nights. Mosquito bites. Ripe grapes. Dry lakes. Somewhere, love, it rains. A red sun. A rooster dawn. I should have known. Sorry that I told you. August 14, 2021 . [ 1199 ]
Of the many wonderful things written and said by Carl Sandburg, there is one that often springs to mind which never goes out of fashion: Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits. Starlings are sunshine birds. They know how the light plays on their feathers. A layer of snow and ice: first at the feeder this morning were the juncos. A walk before sunrise, every step accompanied by a […]
An abundance of energy and little urge to write. Four frosty sunrise hikes in five days: one nearby in lake-and-river country, where the waters are high and silence prevails; the others on rocky forest trails in the company of thundering, moss-misty falls. January 23, 2021 . [ 1002 ]
William Michaelian 