-
A STRANGE LIFE
The sun rose this morning,as if the day was not in anyway out of the ordinary, daysgone far too large to countfor those with finite capacity.The birds begin, their harmoniouscacophony, though they thinkit is their lauds, matins of reflectionburned off with the dew underthe gentle glare of a late spring sun.They watch us begin to…
-
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…
-
CLOSE ENOUGH TO HEAR
We sit around the small tablesglad to be out of the sunwhose midday glare seemsto blind the drivers slowlyapproaching the Jetty Park lot. A family chatters, the childrenlaughing at nothing, at everything,and nearby a dog lays outdreaming of a good walkand dinner, hoping for scraps. We can hear the waterof the inlet, the waves breakingonto…
-
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…
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
an old writer and his words 