an old writer and his words

  • NO NOAH

    The rains have now begunand while they are not yet Biblicaland may never be, we know theyare simply a tease of whatis coming in the next days.Milton is a monster, they say,his reputation as impetuoushas already preceded him,and I am not one to argue finepoints with nature, she is fickleand always manages to win.So we…

    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

  • MORNING

    The clocks have begrudginglyshifted again, the earlymorning lost in darknessbarely illuminated by a waning moon.The fronds of the Royal Palm’swhisper “we are here, waitfor us.” But they are mere shadowsbegging for dawn’s arrival.Finally the sun engulfs the starswatching over the horizon,the fronds say “look at me,I will give you an infinitepalette of green that will…

    Lou Faber

  • APPROACHING AUTUMN

    This is the seasonwhen the maplesbegan their rainof colored tears. It may still be so,but not here,and the palmsknow no seasons. Once there wasa veil of lilac,bushes trying tooutdo the others. But at leastthe magnolias carenothing for distanceoffering their beauty here and where wenow have onlymemories of the ebband flow of seasons.

    Lou Faber

  • FOCUS

    He always paid passing attention to the coconut palms. It wasn’t that they were so attractive as to merit attention. Quite the contrary, they were remarkable ordinary as palms go. But he knew that if the drivers here didn’t get him, a ill-timed coconut leaping from a palm would be pleased to do the job.…

    Lou Faber

  • THE VIEW FROM ABOVE

    The hawk sits in one of the highest branches of the tree, his red shoulders blazing in the morning sun, both staring down on those of us trapped by gravity, by the weight of our thoughts, as we pass by slowly below. From time to time the hawk will offer a short commentary, never ceasing…

    Lou Faber