an old writer and his words

  • NARA PARK

    I Ducks skitter across Ara-ike pond like a perfectly thrown skipping stone. Two sit and preen on large rocks left as pedestals. A spider dragging its prey along the weathered wood railing of the bridge pauses for a moment to contemplate ducks, then moves on consumed by hunger. II Several deer languish among the wizened…

    Lou Faber

  • RIPPLE

    In this moment there is, and can be, no other. And when it is gone it never existed, much as the next will never exist. So it is with us, a reflection of the ripple of the long sunk stone now nestling the bottom of the pond.

    Lou Faber

  • DHAMMAPADA

    A foolish man sits at the edge of the pond, his feet perfectly still in the water. He stares into the mirrored surface and sees a fool, smiles as a ginkgo leaf floats like a sail on a morning breeze onto the pool, ripples radiate out, touching his toes and he smiles, and the fool…

    Lou Faber