an old writer and his words

  • IN HIDING

    I am not certain whether it is happenstanceor God just has a wicked sense of humor.I love the idea of fruit, something wonderfulhiding under a protective skin, and by fruitI mean anything developing from the ovaryof a flowering plant, so avocados are fruit.The sense of humor comes from the designGod chose, the outer covering that…

    Lou Faber

  • GRANDMOTHER’S RULES

    My grandmother covered allher upholstered furniture in plasticthat stuck to your bare skin in summerand was always cold in winter.She said she did not wantto get the fabric stained, thatpeople could be easily cleanedjust like plastic slipcovers.I asked her why she did notcover the rug, an off-white plush,in plastic and she chuckled,“because, grandson, crumbsneed a…

    Lou Faber

  • NOAA’S ARK

    The rain finally fell today, a delugeworthy of Noah but NOAA assures usthis is only a three day storm and the nextthirty-seven will not mirror it, at leastnot fully they think they believe.The weather here, the outer skinof nature, is too often a petulant childforever not satisfied with how things are,wanting things different, wantingmore, wanting…

    Lou Faber

  • LOWERING

    When they lowered my grandmother’s casket into the sodden earth, there wan’t a dry eye, shoulder or leg, around. She would’ve laughed aloud, her children always too busy for a visit now soaked to the skin in a cold, windy downpour, all but me, the one she chose to conduct the service, the funeral director…

    Lou Faber

  • NATURE SPEAKS

    Along the shore, this morning, the clouds piled up, refusing entry to the promised sun, which hung back forlorn. The waves charged onto the sand like so many two-year-olds in full tantrum, banging against all in sight and retreating, only to charge again, pushing away any and all in their path. The wind pummels the…

    Lou Faber

  • BLESSING

    There is a blessing in silence that we so often deny ourselves, unaware that it lies just beyond the noise of our minds and lives. We crave it, beg for it, and hearing the beggar, shun him for the noise he carries like the skin he cannot molt. Beethoven understood silence in his later years…

    Lou Faber

  • MORNING AT THE SHORE

    Along the shore, this morning, the clouds piled up, refusing entry to the promised sun, which hung back forlorn. The waves charged onto the sand like so many two year olds in full tantrum, banging against all in sight and retreating, only to charge again, pushing away any and all in their path. The wind…

    Lou Faber

  • INSIDIOUS

    They come when you least expect them appear seemingly out of nowhere at first so small they go unnoticed but never unheard, for what they lack in size, they make up for in volume. The get beneath your skin, take root, steal into your heart, and find themselves in the brain’s synapses. Before long they…

    Lou Faber

  • SOZAN’S FOUR DON’TS 鐵笛倒吹 九十二

    You may seek to follow the path of the dove a fool know many roads. You may wrap yourself in fine linen, an infant wears only his skin and knows this moment is already gone. Think long before you speak of how to walk along the path, of where it leads. The baby says nothing,…

    Lou Faber

  • IN VINO VERITAS

    He is convinced he is simply squeezing the sun out of each plump orb. The sun lies within, but he lets it kiss its skin goodbye before pouring the sunshine into the oak barrels where the sun will have time to concentrate until it slips over the lips perhaps on a cold autumn day and…

    Lou Faber