an old writer and his words

  • STARS

    Once the winter starswrapped in their cloudy shroudshed frozen tears, unwillingto come out of hiding.We searched for them in vain,knowing our failure,retreating to the warmthof home, only to repeatthe failed effort on somany other nights. Now, here, the winter starsare usually fearless,some drowned by the moon,but she waxes and wanesand they reappear, the brightestnever fearing…

    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

  • THE CAT

    Pause and consider, if onlyfor a moment, this question,which you need not answeras you will be right andyou will be wrong regardlessof what you say in response. What if we are the cat insome Godly thought experimentand our degradation of the planetis the bit of radioactive material,of which we have in profusion. Are we alive,…

    Lou Faber

  • DROWNING

    Stop and breathe, deeply,don’t look at the smog,at the particles hangingin your air like a curtain. Don’t pause to considerwhat you are inhaling, don’tpicture your alveoli cloggedwith what you can now see. You are drowning slowly ina sea of air, so imagine yourselfa fish struggling in the waterof a sea you have laid waste to.

    Lou Faber

  • MARVEL

    We are, after all, merely humanso we are fraught with questionsand lacking answers, willingto take things on faith on occasion. Take God, for example, althoughsome say He is uniquely exemplary,we want to know if God is a he,a she, or to cover all our bases, a they. And when we ask for a sign weoften…

    Lou Faber

  • OR CUT BAIT

    They sit or stand patientlyon the jetty, a concrete pathjutting out into the ocean. The old timers have twolines out, bait bucketsitting in the bicycle-wheeledcart parked on the edgeof the jetty’s bouldered margin. You don’t ask what they’vecaught, that would be obvious,and you know they are here forthe act of fishing, and the catchis that…

    Lou Faber

  • REINCARNATION

    In my next lifeI want to come backas a Great Blue Heron. I will majesticallystand by a lake, capturingfish, capturing the eyeof all who wander by,pausing in awe and desire. And I will havethe one thing I knowI now lack, that traitthat has escaped mefor far too many years,patience, the abilityto stand and stareuntil the…

    Lou Faber

  • HE WHO LAUGHS LAST

    The moon was kind enoughto linger this morning,knowing that I wanteda photograph, and thatI needed sufficient ambientlight to allow meto fully capture her visage.Sometimes she rises earlyand shows her facebefore the sun retreats.I suppose it may justbe vanity on the moon’s part,showing off for her brightersibling, certain I will neverpause to photograph Sol.Tomorrow it will…

    Lou Faber

  • STRANGE BEAUTY

    There is a strange beautyin the slow loss of sight,for there is a progressivetransition, a discoveryof much that went unheard,unfelt, missing in the glareof the need to see, to categorizeand organize, memoriesneatly arranged in an arrayof curated visual files. But without sight what oncewas cast aside as noise isan intricate tapestry of soundand undistracted, you…

    Lou Faber

  • TOO SOON

    The leaves will soon begintheir descent from the small tree,already brown, their beautydeparting before they do so. They are bilobular, an odd word,but one that belongs in a poem,even this one it seems, and it istheir shape that you first notice. The tree will all to soon be naked,branches sticking into the airas if searching…

    Lou Faber