an old writer and his words

  • CUTTING THOUGHTS

    My wife pauses by the placardin the nature preserve and tells methat what I have been calling grassesare in fact a sedge known as sawgrass. She points out the warning thatit’s serrated on the edge and earnedits name from those who graspedit without knowing or thinking first. I feign listening but she knowsmy mind is…

    Lou Faber

  • CLARITY

    There are those occasional moments of clarity that appear without warning and are, as quickly, gone. We expect them less as we age and they oblige us by staying away. Children assume them, and are rarely surprised, as though they see them coming, need no warning and have no expectation anything will come of them.…

    Lou Faber

  • AROUND EVERY CORNER

    They hide in corners, and you think you can see them, but you cannot be certain for they are vague and could be no more than wishes, but belief is sufficient. As you grow older, the number of corners grow and a universe of but eight corners is now itself tucked in a corner of…

    Lou Faber

  • FULL OF IT

    He is worried, he says that we will be leaving on a full moon. I remind him that he leaves in two weeks, that this morning’s half-moon will be gone then replaced by its now absent other half. He says it should be full if it’s half now and half a month passes. His statements…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WEIGHT

    There is a heaviness to the sky a weightiness belied by the gray of the clouds, even the departing sun seems to whisper that it will be replaced by rain in short order. You feel the weight bearing down, as the heat of the day dissipates, and although the first drops have not yet fallen,…

    Lou Faber

  • SAMADHI

    He is certain that there is that single moment when it will be exactly the right time for it. There must be such a moment, for it will not happen until that instant arrives and he knows it must be arriving soon. He isn’t sure how he will know when the moment arrives, just that…

    Lou Faber

  • FALLING

    I stumbled in love with you, she said, because I’ve always had this great fear of falling. It must come from my childhood though I can’t recall any specific incident, just the deep bruises my parents left when they fell, without warning, out of the love I thought had to last forever.

    Lou Faber

  • TWO SEASONS (CINQUAIN)

    It came without warning and much to our surpise settled in for a long visit — Summer Winter’s slow departure leaves us frozen in rage at Spring’s reluctance to appear — again

    Lou Faber