Phases
What’s left of the moon a perfect little fingernail I remember when our baby girl was born . [ 1499 ]
Tag Archive for ‘The Moon’
The Miracle of Your Breath
The waning moon; a gentle arc of planets; a run that ends with a sprint — the ship is crowded, aye, but the deck is clear while the stars are out. Yesterday our eldest son climbed Mt. Whitney — a twenty-two-mile hike, four and a half hours to the summit, three hours down, the entire descent in a thunderstorm with hail and icy water all around. Back in Lone Pine, […]
Luxury
Cloudy and calm, with an occasional glimpse of the moon. All through the neighborhood, the robins were silent this morning. While I was growing up, there was one telephone in the house. It was in the kitchen. When we went somewhere, to stay for a week in the mountains, for instance, no one could call us. And while we were away, the only clock we had was my father’s dollar […]
Time
It takes time to learn carpentry; algebra; to build bridges; plant a vineyard; fly to the moon. But to live simply and joyfully, to be kind, to breathe deeply, love, and be free, time is not needed at all. Peace is not a matter of identity, struggle, or effort; ask any tree or ever-changing cloud. You are here; the date, the hour, need not be recorded; the world need not […]
A Clear View
Wait, now — patience — see how the moon rises, free of memories and words. . [ 1444 ]
Each Other’s Creation
Yesterday morning I ran four miles, and when I was done I felt I could have easily run farther. It had rained again during the night and the atmosphere was heavy and moist, with a light fog. I kept a slow pace, free and easy. This morning I ran about a mile and a quarter in a very strong wind. My pace was still free and easy, but much faster. […]
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 ]
The Light and the Way
A frosty morning, the stars still out. The moon said, I am what I do, and I do what I am. And I ran and I ran, and I ran and I ran. . [ 1386 ]
Foolish Questions
On the tracks to the east, a train’s heading north. A long train. North through the fog, beneath a full moon. The moon that kept us up most of the night. Light in the room. Light between the closed blinds. But it’s the silence up there that I wonder about. I can’t help thinking how strong the moon must be. Is that why it’s round? To keep it from being […]
William Michaelian 