an old writer and his words

  • PERIODICALLY

    Periodically we go to see the birdsin their natural habitat, which we knowis not natural for we have taken so muchof it for our own and left them what weimagine their habitat should look like.We assume the birds do not watch usstanding there gawking, trying notto disturb them from what they are doing.We do not…

    Lou Faber

  • LABORING

    There are those few momentswhen they sit on the bermaround the Igloo jug trying to findthe shade from a spindly palm cut backto almost nothing, the sunetching the sky with a molten heatthat melts away the few cloudsfoolish enough to appear.One keeps an eye outfor the supervisor knowinglunch is hours off and there areno breaks…

    Lou Faber

  • THREE HAIKU

    sun consumes itselffurnace heat grips the citysmall maple withers setting summer sunturns the river to purplemoon comes from hiding giant cranes are perchedon thin spindly legs, necks bowedsteel beams scratch the clouds

    Lou Faber

  • THREE HAIKU

    music of kotogently washes angry wallsspring robin is born lightening etches cloudsarching over the cityspring rain approaches rising sun castsits glow on the shirred mirrorof the reservoir

    Lou Faber

  • TWO HAIKU

    A lone ginkgo leafclings to the now barren branchdefying winter. Great blue Herons stareat the slowly passing cloudsobscuring their home.

    Lou Faber

  • NOT HERE

    There were those January nights whenwinter wrapped us in its chill, but withdrewits frequent blanket of clouds, and Iwould go outside peering throughthe fog of my breath and lookinto the sky at the aurora borealis,watching the electrons danceon a black scrim dotted with myriad stars.Years later and miles away I missthe occasional night shows for…

    Lou Faber

  • THE PARK

    He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he…

    Lou Faber

  • DREAMING OF FLIGHT

    As a child I, like so many others,imagined we might have wingsand could take flight at will, unrestrainedby gravity or parents, a freedomboth denied us: for our own goodthe parents said, silently by gravity.We would look at the sky, the clouds,the birds cavorting without seeming careas we were called in for homework,piano practice, household chores.Now…

    Lou Faber

  • WAITING SEASON

    He had been standing there for hoursstaring into the heavens, the cloudsa foreboding shroud promising regeneration,promising rain, promising redemption.He said to the heavens, “I loved you once,”and an ominous wind replied, “youloved yourself, nothing else mattered.”He wanted to argue but the wind, too,abandoned him and the smell of lightninghe could not yet see assaulted him.He…

    Lou Faber

  • BAREFOOT

    He says his favorite cloudsall wear size seven shoes.He knows she believesshe once saw a paisley rainbowand will never forget it.She wears size seven shoesand her tears can be torrential,yet they can still nurturethe first flowers of spring.He imagines her a butterflysitting on the back of his hand,gossamer wings poisedat the thin edge of stillness.He…

    Lou Faber