an old writer and his words

  • CERULEAN

    He is certain that the sky is always blue and when it seems cloudy it is just that Magritte has risen from his grave and brush in hand, painted the sky and clouds. She scoffs at the idea knowing full well the clouds are merely rice paper cutouts floating on a gentle breeze.

    Lou Faber

  • FLIGHT

    One thousand cranes take flight and there is a sudden silence as the cat stares up, bidding them farewell. We barely stop to notice, despite the rainbow of colors replacing the clouds, even the sun seeming to pause in wonder. Two thousand hands made this happen, one person, unrelenting, knowing anything less would be nothing…

    Lou Faber

  • SEA-ING

    He believes he would like the ocean, imagines standing on the shore watching as the waves wash up to his feet, and as quickly retreat, smoothing the sand. He has never seen the ocean, only ponds and on large lake, but he imagines the ocean is just a giant lake with bigger waves. He would…

    Lou Faber

  • THICKNESS OF DAY

    The clouds are thick today, each merging into the next like an ill-woven blanket, stitches dropped, but still not admitting light. None assumes familiar shapes, none require more than a passing glance, though none promise much-needed rain. Today clouds simply cast a pall and we are left to bear their omnipresent reluctance to be of…

    Lou Faber

  • BETWEEN EARTH AND HEAVEN

    He is certain that the sky is always blue and when it seems cloudy it is just that Magritte has risen from his grave and brush in hand, painted the sky and clouds. She scoffs at the idea, knowing full well the clouds are merely rice paper cutouts floating on a gentle breeze.

    Lou Faber

  • DAWNING DREAM

      In the morning the sun will reach through our window and draw us out of sleep. Some mornings it sneaks through the clouds which it pushes aside, only to retreat again when we reach out and try to grasp it. It is the sun’s caress we crave, the promise of a lover yet unmet,…

    Lou Faber

  • CLOUDY

    They promised rain yesterday. It did not rain yesterday. The sky grew dark, the clouds gathered, convening, no doubt, to consider rain but clearly they did not reach a consensus. They say it will rain today, but we have no reason at all to believe them, for they are wispy and darting around under the…

    Lou Faber

  • TEMPUS FUGIT

    The problem with bringing then into now is that now slips away and then no longer really exists. You may wish all you like for summer to remain, but Autumn demands her due and even the leaves grow tired and need that final rest. Do not deny the clouds, but treat them like a stray…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT ARRIVES

      As night advances, the clouds march in slow retreat to the horizon under the tattoo of the crows cadenced cawing. Once gone from sight, under the always watchful moon, they shall regroup and prepare to reemerge in the first shadow of the sun of morning.

    Lou Faber

  • LIGHT

    The light always enters unseen, knowing without it nothing can be seen. Light sees the infinite green pallet arrayed on a single leaf, the complex hues of a rainbow painting the white wisps of morning clouds, the blaze red forehead of the moorhen patrolling the pond. Light will always willingly share its vision if we…

    Lou Faber