an old writer and his words

  • ANGLE OF INCIDENCE

    Dusk reflects dawn much asdawn reflects dusk, and it isour fear of night and deep needfor direction that sets them apart. Imagine a photograph of the sunhovering just over the horizon,compass-less we do not knowwhat preceded, what will follow. We prefer day and dawn, forit is then we feel in control,our thoughts leashed, our fearslocked…

    Lou Faber

  • CHANGES

    The finches are strugglingthis morning, searching the lawnfor the odd clover seed that’s yet to be reduced to dust by a summerwhere the rain has paintedour world with a palette of parchment, ochre, leaving uswandering an increasingly sepia world.  We know that the rains will come again, that nature’s green will return, however briefly, beforewinter encases us all in…

    Lou Faber

  • AND UNDER THIS ROCK

    There is one thing that noneof the books on discoveringwho you are when you areadopted bother to tell you. If they did, it wouldn’t changeanything, but it is a burdenyou assumed you’d easily bearthat grows heavy with time. What they don’t warn you isthat you will discover yourself,your heritage that was deniedto you for one…

    Lou Faber

  • ERSE WHILE

    Growing up, I never imaginedthat I was Lithuanian, I mean Imight have as easily been from Mars. And it was only in my dreamsthat Gaelic was an ancestral tongue,not one my ancestors spoke,at least those who hadn’t yetmade the unthinkable moveto Norfolk and the frigid sea. Now I am all of those, and I knowthat…

    Lou Faber

  • WINTER

    As I stare out the window and watchthe snow slowly build on the limbsof the now barren crab apple, paintingit with a whiteness that bears heavily,giving the smaller branches a betterview of the ground in which theirfruit of the summer lies buried. I am forced to wonder if the treecontinues to watch me, if its…

    Lou Faber

  • FOUR HAIKU

    the morning dew smilesthe rising sun stares deeplylater a merger the egret stands fixedwishing he was a statuethe rippling pond laughs clouds blacken the skythe sun plays hide and go seekwe watch patiently. winter is lurkingbut swaying palms reject itit retreats northward

    Lou Faber

  • HOLY

    The sun slowly climbsup onto the mountain’s minaretand announces the call to prayer.The waves in the quiet Lakedip their heads watching treeswith the reverence reserved for morning.The loon sits on the altarand intones the sermon, the wavesstilling for a moment, then ebbing into the day.

    Lou Faber

  • EVEN HERE

    As winter closes in around us,even here, the Great Blue Heronsgo about building a nest,inviting us to watch as theymake a home of gatheredbranches and twigs, obliviousto the state of our world,of the pandemic gripping us. We watch respectfully, knowingthat in this darkest of seasons,we are about to witnessour own little miracle and willsoon bear…

    Lou Faber