Whatever the conditions, where a tree sprouts is where it must live its life. Out of this grows its patience and wisdom. Trees know how to wait, to bide their time, to conserve their energy and use it to their best, most joyful advantage; this in turn becomes their gift to the world. As I have aged, my bark has grown shaggy; knots have formed where my trunk and limbs […]
Whatever I meant in that moment and mood, it seems blurred and faded now. The words sound nice. Maybe that’s why I was satisfied with them at the time. But I can’t say I’m satisfied with them now. The drawing, though, I like better. I can’t criticize someone for the way he looks. His expression seems the result of having lived many lives in one. Now I wonder: is that, […]
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 […]
Taken literally, each word of the short poem that is Long Train is a sturdy, useful brick; and so I might say, if there is something you hope to build, it always pays to begin with good materials. Such materials are most readily found in nature, but there are times and places where the harsh, rough emblems of the city are just as useful, and even beautiful. I have employed […]
The Big Dipper is kind to streetlights — lets them boast, as a ghost might. . Now, you should know there’s a great being, gentle, wise, and invisible, who goes out at night and pulls up the roads, and carries them off in her arms, and who leaves trees, grass, and flowers growing in her path — To remind them, she says, and the breeze agrees, Yes. . Read the […]
Back to the falls. The sun was shining in the hills above the fog. The maples in the canyon are glowing yellow. The trees still have most of their leaves, and are releasing them one by one like butterflies. Few hikers were out, most of them in their sixties and seventies. On the path below North Falls, one man we met looked at my beard and said with a smile, […]
Like some others recently installed in the neighborhood, the new streetlight near Don and Jane’s house doesn’t have a plastic enclosure for the bulb. And this morning I noticed a spider has built a web across one of the four exposed sides. Beaded with moisture from the fog, it was beautifully illuminated. The spider could have chosen any bush or tree growing nearby. Instead, it climbed the smooth, silver pole […]
The primitive human in me doesn’t want to be sitting here at a keyboard. It wants to be gathering wood or picking berries. If I must tell stories, let it be near a fire, sung as a poem, or pounded out on a drum. . In life as in the library — may the sweetest, ripest fruit always be just out of reach. . A cloudy morning for the eclipse. […]
The Rambler, Numb. 12. Saturday, April 28, 1750. The entire column given over to a touching letter signed “Zosima,” detailing the ill treatment received by the writer, a thoughtful, well-to-do woman fallen on hard times, when seeking work as a maid. The letter ends with thanks to an unnamed gentle woman who treated her with kindness and generosity, though she no longer had a position to fill. . From Walt […]
I have learned silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers. — Kahlil Gibran, Sand and Foam. . Ideally we will hold no opinion, and therefore have none to defend. For what’s an opinion but one more way of living in, and clinging to, the past? We may believe nothing has changed since we arrived at the […]
William Michaelian 