an old writer and his words

  • GET A ROOM

    You feel like a voyeur, staringas the red-shouldered hawksmate in a tree mere yardsfrom where you are standing. Still, you cannot take your eyesaway from them, your cameratightly focussed, an avianpornographer perhaps, or maybe just a lucky soul given the chanceto witness a ritual denied to most,and you know with luck their offspringwill repeat the…

    Lou Faber

  • FOOTHILL ROAD

    In the hills that rise gently from the concrete valley two hawks play childlike, rising, falling in gentle circles, grazing the redwoods that reach up to stroke their breasts. To a visitor from the East New York, Tokyo there is awe at the hawks’ grace, slicing the sky into cloudy ribbons but there is no…

    Lou Faber