an old writer and his words

  • SHE WILL ARRIVE

    In this place and timeof year our hauntings comefrom the sea, she that usuallybewitches us can turn angryand unleash her spite and spittle,and she will not be sateduntil we all concede our impotence.She cares nothing for doors,goes through one and all thatimagine they stand in her way.We know she will come, not when,and in the…

    Lou Faber

  • ALMOST, NOT QUITE

    The rains finally came the other day,not the tropical storms that this seasonpromises, those will come laterwe are assured by the weathermenwho sometimes struggle to describewhat is happening outside their windows.It was the sort of rain we had almostforgotten during our tropical droughtwhich, yes, does seem like a contradictionin terms until you look at the…

    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

  • 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

  • EXTINCTION

    The days are shorteningas they should, going forwardon their slow march from equilibrium.The birds arrive and leaveas they should, caring nothingfor clocks or calendars, merelyreading the sky and weather.They know their worldis changing, hotter daysand nights and the stormsthey must outfly growingever stronger, more dangerous.They know that we are the cause,our greed, our arrogance,and they…

    Lou Faber

  • A RUNG TOO HIGH

    He is fully stuck on the hornsof a dilemma from which hecan see no way to extricate himself.He needs to get up on the roofand patch the hole beforethe storm shortly arrives full force.The old wooden ladder that hasbeen lying along the sideof the house is far too heavy for himto maneuver into position and…

    Lou Faber

  • GENESIS

    Every time I see a doveI look twice to seeif by chance it has an olive branch,actually any branch, claspedin its claws, for that would meanthe storm of the last years,the wars, the abject poverty,the amassing of wealthfor its own sake at the neverending expense of others,was coming to an end,that the peace we all…

    Lou Faber

  • PAUSE

    This morning a lone snowy egretperched stoically atop the leafless treerising out of the small preserve.Of what was it a harbinger, whatmessage was I needing, failing to hear?Was it in search of a dove amid endlessnews of wars still raging on,or was it repeating the unheard warningof what we had wrought in its onceedenic world,…

    Lou Faber

  • STORM

    We walked slowly alongfeet sinking in the sandafter waves swallowed the sun.We could smell its approachbefore the first winds sweptashore pushing sands againstbeach chairs turned for night.Two dogs ran over dunesknowing what would come,drawn by clatter of hammersplacing plywood shuttersover windows and doors.Clouds, an ebony pall, gatheredmocking, waiting for a momentwhen the lid would be…

    Lou Faber

  • INTO THE BRUSH

    I have carefully peeledback the skin of a hundred snakesand left their twisted formscurled around mesquiteas so many skirts. Canadia geesefollow carefully worn pathsacross an October skyundeterred by storm cloudsgiving chase from the west.A wolf wanders downfrom the tree line to the edgeof the highway. She can tastethe approach of winter,bitter on her tongue, her…

    Lou Faber