an old writer and his words

  • TANKA, TANKA, HAIKU

    The dawn sky arrivesvelvet blue on my fingersand the gathered birdshear the cobalt song of dayin this our private heaven On this sapphire nightstars search for the missing moonthe blue sky of dawnis still deeply in hidingfrom night’s moment of glory Oceans remembera time before we arrivedtheir once deep blueness

    Lou Faber

  • IF ONLY

    Were we birds we wouldhave our talons dug so deeplyinto the soil, our wings unableto lift us into a waiting skyfrom our gravitation prison.The egrets peer down at usfrom a thousand hued blue skycloudless again this dayas a maleficent sun glaresdown on us as we slowlybake in the oven we createdby our malfeasant stewardshipof nature’s…

    Lou Faber

  • NEATLY PRESSED

    I have decided to stopwearing the only suit I now own.It is the one I only wear to weddingsor to funerals, or a bar mitzvah.the problem is that it needsto be a happy, if only slightly,suit and lately it seemsdeaths outnumber weddingsand Bar or Bat Mitzvahsonly count as neutral nowthat I no longer practice Judaism.I…

    Lou Faber

  • JEALOUSY (AGAIN)

    We are jealous of trees,anchored as we areto a grasping earth,able to tear free onlymomentarily or withthe help of machines, for trees can approachthe clouds, swaddleall manner of birds,and, we are certain,know heaven moreintimately than we can. And trees are jealousof birds, able to flywell above their highestbranches, knowingthe true blue of the skyand the…

    Lou Faber

  • GREAT DIVIDE

    The truck, a white Ford F-150with oversized tires was parkedon the lawn next to the smallparking lot, filling quickly as peoplearrived for the community market. There was a giant flag fixedto the bed of the truck, unavoidableflapping in the breeze,“Let’s Go Brandon,” and everyoneknew the message all too well. Some averted their eyes, a fewsmiled,…

    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

  • FOR RAIN

    The clouds build slowly, turning the sky from blue to ever darkening shades of gray. He hopes it will rain, rain heavily, as the ground is parched, the wetland a bog, and the birds have moved on in search of water. He watches the build up, the clouds accreting, and he waits for the first…

    Lou Faber

  • MIRAGE?

    Outside the doornestled in the tall grasswhite, a plumegossamer, a giftperhaps from a skyfinally blueor a tearfor the summer’sdeparture,or, perhaps,a promise,down paymenton the freedomfrom gravitylong soughtnever attained.

    Lou Faber

  • BLUES

    He is for it or he isagainst it, and if you couldpredict the vacillations youcould develop the meansof measuring the flux of sanity. You could as easily graspthe water flowing downriverand by asking select questionsdetermine the next heavy rain, but the odds are goodyou will be outside whenthe deluge begins, andonly its ultimate weightand duration…

    Lou Faber

  • GAME, SET, MATCH

    As a child, a Jewish child no less, December was always a bit difficult. We had Channukah, which no Jew would dare claim grew solely to compete with Christmas, although we all knew that was precisely what had happened. The problem was Christmas, but had nothing to do with Jesus, or the church or even…

    Lou Faber