an old writer and his words

  • LILAC

    It is the season, I remember,when the clusters of flowersrip free of their cocoons andgrasp the warming sun, spewingout their sweet fragranceto bees and people alike.They know their time is short,turn riotous in pastel shadeswhite, pink, purple, lilacthey hope we will not soon forget.It was always like that, an annualrite of beauty that we havegiven…

    Lou Faber

  • LEAVING

    They don’t do that here,the leaves do not demand to be seenonly in their chosen seasonsand their palette is self-limited.There is no budding in spring,no malus or prunus throwing offwild cascades of white and pinkpainting the ground around them.There is no riot of coloras summer retreats and winterplans its eventual arrival,blazing reds and oranges,yellow, ochers…

    Lou Faber

  • AVIAN CONUNDRUM

    The woodpeckers here seemquite content to beat their headsagainst palm trees, which I am notcertain should qualify as trees,not a ring to be seen if you cutone down, but they tend to fallbefore you get to that point. The most common woodpeckeris the red bellied, which itselfis odd since his head is bright redhis belly…

    Lou Faber

  • TOO WAY BACK MACHINE

    Platform shoes, velourNehru jackets, what the hellwere we thinking, and pinkvelour, seriously, for men. At least it was Hendrix, Byrds,and not Pat Boone and AndyWilliams, almost the deathof music as we know it. Reefers were evil, told us so,and when we figured out it waspot, we begged to differ, frequentlybetween hits on the bong, after…

    Lou Faber

  • BLOSSOM

    I remember the cherry treesalong the reflecting pool, thoughexcept in April they mostly reflecteda partially clouded sky promising rain. Their pinkness was a tone I havesearched for since, and cameclosest in Tokyo, jealous of the emperorand his gardens so carefully tended. It is that time again, and this yearas in so many past, I will…

    Lou Faber

  • MINDFUL (THREE HAIKU)

    the bell rings three times outside the birds fall silent all sitting zazen clocks come to a stop time no longer has meaning in meditation apple blossoms fall covering the ground in pink promising summer

    Lou Faber