an old writer and his words

  • FIVE BIRDS

    The cold winter breezepalm fronds shivering at dawnegrets remain still a thousand birds landengage in conversationa foreign language arriving at duskwhite ibis strive to decidewho is the alpha the cat sits watchingthe sandhill crane approachesthey speak to each other a single ibisstruts across newly mown lawnsdinner now awaits

    Lou Faber

  • AFFIXED

    I can only begin to imaginehow utterly strange I must lookto the Great Blue Heron standingin the wetland behind our home.What must he make of this odd creaturewith thick legs that seemdisproportionately short comparedto their bodies, why their neckshave such limited mobility, whythey cannot look behind themselvesor scratch their chins with their toes.But the birds…

    Lou Faber

  • COUPLING

    Walking through the art gallery,she frequently pauses to lookat paintings of couples in a baror a cafe, engaged in conversation. I tell her they seem sad, as thoughwhatever romance they hadhas waned, they having grownapart, this a parting of sorts. She laughs and says that I mistakewistfulness for sadness, menso often do, and adds they…

    Lou Faber