Fear

In the middle of the night I walked down the wet, black pavement of Lombardi street to the chaos down below. When the bombs fell, no one knew the name of the enemy. They didn't know his agenda. The knew nothing, in fact, but the gnawing, screeching, frantic rodent in their chests ― fear. Fear is an unstable thing in the heart of a man. He'll jump through a hoop of fire to get away from it, to get out of it. A man would dig and claw at his own chest to pull it out. Like a polar bear on drift ice, he would brave the deep, but only after he's far enough from solid ground to be afraid.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA
26 September 2010




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Harvest Evening

It was a Wednesday evening - October 10th as I recall - and every soul in nature was at rest. The autumn leaves shone through the dark twilight mist like so many little lighthouses. The harvest moonlight besilvered the world. Not a cloud in sight. Nary an unveiled star.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
5 November 2009




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Timing

Catch the flavor of the moment and hold it in your hands and let it go. Let it go when the time's right.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
16 October 2009




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Pacific

My grandfather was a reluctant sailor conscripted toward the end of the Second World War to serve in the Pacific theater. Ironic. Pacific: from the Latin, "peaceful". I wonder how many enlisted men, like him, realized this profound paradox. Two western peaces imposed on an eastern sea. There was plenty of infamy to spread around. Mr. Roosevelt knew it. Agitprop at its finest.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
15 October 2009




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Fall

The leaves are turning early this year. We admire their short-lived beauty with heavy hearts and anxious hands. The worst is yet to come, and it promises nothing, no hope of escape or renewal, only the slow quicksand of the Fall. Why must we fight? How do we hurt each other? Insatisfaction is our worst enemy. Where do the leaves go when they fall? Through the window the rabbits and squirrels horde and gorge, as do we, in this spiraling dance of desperation. When the marten flys north and the mockingbird sings, we'll awake and think it all some sad, strange fairly tale.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
14 October 2009





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Widow

She sat in the same house in Pennsylvania with Virginia columns were, 50 years before, he brought her on their snowy wedding night. A mockingbird on the fir tree out front whistles the same notes he tried years in vain to imitate. He lies out back beneath the wildflowers in the field he once plowed, victim of his own betrayal, in an unmarked grave.

Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
12 October 2009





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Now

The great mystery surrounding us... coincidence, fate, chance... all the forces and colors of nature have conspired to bring us to this moment.


Old Zionsville, Pennsylvania, USA
12 October 2009





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