an old writer and his words

  • CIRCLING

    This morning as the bellsignaled the end of morning zazenthe whistling ducks took uptheir song, circling the wetlandas if inviting me to photograph them. They quickly grew bored waitingand flew off to a placeI do not know, can not imagine. Perhaps they will returnthis afternoon, circlein a duck like pose as I capturethem with the…

    Lou Faber

  • AUBADE

    The sun peers throughthe skylight, sneakscatlike up the comforter.He strokes her cheek,they are drawn together,lips touch,toes twine,hips press,fingers trace,the mattress a worldof infinite gravity.Downstairsthe cat paces angrily,the coffeemakerthirsts for beans. First Published in the 2005 Scars Publications Poetry Wall Calendar

    Lou Faber

  • MINDFUL

    I saw the sunrise this morningover Mt. Hood, theglow that announcedto the horizon its approach.There should bein the life of every man,every woman, that momentwhen seeing dawnlift, peel back the shroudfrom Mt. Hood causes the suddenintake of just that much extra breath. Publshed in As Above, So Below, Issue 9, August 2022https://issuu.com/bethanyrivers77/docs/as_above_so_below_issue_9

    Lou Faber

  • FIVE HAIKU

    The dawn cedes slowlyto the impinging sunlightbirds greet the new day The great egret liftsher wings embracing the cloudthe winter sun smiles on the barren branchthe red-shouldered hawk awaitsher mate and the sun sandhill cranes wanderalong the shore of the lakelooking for nothing the moon is a cupwaiting for night to fill itvenus sits empty

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING SKY

    The morning skymaculate with tiny cloudsscattered about the endless blue,denied the promised rain. The wind grew angryhaving nothing to propelthrough the azure emptinessand rifled the trees seeking music. There is nothing to knowon such mornings, no languageneeded or permitted, there is onlythe sky awaiting the sun’s arrival. We are invited to watch,asked to gaze deeply…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER?

    In the early morning, beforeI open the blinds, beforethe sun approaches rising,I imagine the chill envelopingeverything outside, Octoberslipping quickly towardNovember, to the possibilityof rolling snake eyes, to snow. Winter always came that way,unannounced, and at leastby me, unwelcomed, thelast of the crimson, flameorange and ochre leavesdragged to the earthand buried ignominiously. But I know when…

    Lou Faber

  • CECI N’EST PAS

    This morning the skyis a painting by Magritteas it is most days, no titleCeci n’est pas un ciel. The birds rise fromthe wetland as Escherwould imagine them,the small wetlandonce a place thatmight be painted byMonet on a day whenhe cared nothingfor water lillies, but nowa jungle of Gauguin. We wait for the returnof the flocks…

    Lou Faber

  • WETLAND HAIKU

    Beside the still ponddragonflies hover lightlysenbazuru dawn The Great Egret staresthe still pond returns his staredawning sun laughing Clouds swallow the moonmoorhens chanting their vesperssleep overtakes us A dragonfly sitswaiting for us to take winggravity says no

    Lou Faber

  • DICTIONARY

    I set out this morningwith my large dictionaryto find the perfect wordto describe the sky, the sunjust peering over the roofof a distant house, the fewclouds aflame in a silent fire. I knew there was a wordfor what I saw in the dictionary,for there is a wordfor everything if you searchlong and hard enough, butafter…

    Lou Faber

  • READY, FIRE, AIM

    He should have knownthat the day was doomedfrom the moment he woketo see his alarm clock in pieceson the floor by his bed, the catgrinning at him from the placewhere the clock had always sat. Finally arriving at the office,he was no sooner at his deskwhen the fire alarm bell rang.Within moments of reenteringafter the…

    Lou Faber