Michael's Chronicles: Windows and Doors

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Windows and Doors

Stop. Reflect.
Do we not view the journey
Through momentary apertures?
Through windows and doors?

We cannot freeze time
There are no “good old days”
Just fond memories
Of what once was

Kebmo was right
We’re victims of comfort
Teased memory
Becomes truth, true or not

If only…………
You know what is said 
Of hindsight
Woulda coulda shoulda

I’ll take now
And think of it later
Sometime when I need
A good laugh

What did I step in?
What didn’t get me?
What’s worse in the end
Wondering or knowing?

Isn’t it much
About intentions?
Do I stand at the window
Or walk through the door?

Michael's Chronicle: Crosswalk Birds

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 27
St Armand’s Circle
Sarasota
Crosswalk Birds

“Kazerp. Kazerp.” (Four second pause) Kazerp. Kazerp.” The bird’s hanging out in the palm tree behind my booth. “Kazerp. Kazerp.” (Emphasis on the second syllable - “zerp). He’s making me nuts. If he’s trying to attract a mate good luck. 

I know for sure it’s not a pigeon. They sound a bit like immature turkeys. Not this guy. I’m saying guy because I believe it’s the males who sit around kazerping like idiots. Can’t he see it’s not working? It’s six a.m. She’s female. She’s not even up yet. (There. I said it. It’s my contribution to chauvinism. Pretty skinny contribution, though. I mean, we’re talking about birds here.)

I’m in my booth. He can’t crap on my head unless he dumps acid. He probably can’t kazerp and dump at the same time anyway. No multitasking. Pigeons are different. I know this because in my lifetime they’ve nailed me twice. Me. I don’t hate all of them but I despise those two. Maybe I’m on a list. Guys to dump on. It’s a crappy list if you ask me.

Anyway back to the bird behind me. I keep trying to process that sound. I think I have it. In many cities there is a speaker on the stoplight posts that chirps a sound warning blind people not to cross because the light is getting ready to change. This bird sound is exactly that. Kazerp. I believe I’m onto something. He’s got a contract with the city. Gotta stay in practice for his day job. This could be the only explanation. 

“Kazerp”

Michael's Chronicle: TGIF

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 26
T.G.I.F.

When I was in college, back in the 60’s, there was this saying: T.G.I.F. - Thank God It’s Friday. Rough translation: end of the week. Time to party. Today is decidedly not that. When last I wrote, a few days ago I felt like airport bait. Delays, cancellations. Don’t want to talk about it.

I am in Florida for the art show season. Son Joah had convinced me that I needed to come back to the shop between shows, two consecutive weeks, to build a musical coffee table of Hawaiian Koa and rosewood. We historically have one for sale during this winter tour. But not this year.

Beautiful, grandly sonorous and not inexpensive the things take about a week to build. So on consecutive Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays I was to have fashioned one which would be shipped down to me in Florida for exhibition and sale.

I earlier chronicled how week one of the two fell apart due to flight cancellations. The plan was to fly on Mondays and Fridays and work the three days in between.

I got it in my head that maybe I could pull it off in three extremely long days - perhaps fourteen hours a day. Brutal but do-able. Having driven from Boca Raton, the sight of last weekend’s event, to my motel in Tampa from where I was flying home I got in bed at about 1 a.m. local time. I arose at six, attended to a number of loose ends and arrived at the airport around 10:30 for a noon flight. Delays and connections had me getting in bed at my shop at two a.m. Tuesday morning. 

Loaded up with rest I started working on the table at six a.m. by bedtime at midnight on Thursday the table was finished. Fifty work hours across three days got the job done. I caught the shuttle to Phoenix for the flight back to Tampa at four a.m this morning. Thank god I sleep on planes. Thank god it’s Friday.

Later, after some Z’s

Michael's Chronicles: Tampa Airport

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 22

Here we go again. This Tampa airport has become way too attached to me. As was the case last week, my outbound flight has been delayed by several hours. The end result then was that all flights related to my trip home were canceled. Weather was the culprit. This day it is “equipment repairs.” How encouraging. Hope they get it right. Not quite sold on afterlife blogging.

Apart from that, the art show in Boca over the weekend was a financial success thus salving the previous weekend’s rain plagued flop. I had a great time at both events, which is typical. Rain can ruin my money’s day but not mine. I am not my money.

I am no Pollyanna. I don’t spin bad events to make them less painful. I simply don’t participate. In short, my attitude is that bad days suck. They don’t need my help. I learned this view from my grandfather Hugh when I was very young - perhaps six or seven years old.

I had left my wagon in the driveway, from whence it had rolled downhill into the street and was flattened by a passing truck. He watched me sitting in front of him at his big roll top desk in his office and finally said these words: “Michael, my boy, I’m understanding your wagon has had a bad day. Is this true?” I nodded as I continued to cry. When I had finally ceased sobbing he said something which has stayed with me to this very day, seventy some-odd years later. He said, “Well let me tell you, young man…………. You are not your wagon.” Powerful words from a wise man.

I have come to understand that when my pickup blows a motor in the middle of nowhere on the way to a major show, threatening my participation and by extension my income (and perhaps my mortgage payment), my motor has had a very bad day. But not I. I am not, as that wise man said, my motor. My emotions are not on the menu.

The trip cancellation last week sucked, as I reported. Today’s delay sucks. It’s no fun being airline bait. But I am looking forward to being back in my studio for the next few days, pretending to be Geppetto.

Later

Michael's Chronicle: Walmart GPS

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 20
Walmart gps

Look, I’m not much of a Walmart guy. My preference is their competitor, Target. More space in the aisles and on the shelves. My shopping venues need to breathe a bit. That said, this morning when I needed a Sharpie on the way to the show I only stumbled onto a Walmart. 

I pulled into a more remote parking space (I drive a large van). Three spaces away a guy had just arrived back at his vehicle with a shopping cart filled with purchases. He had one of those cauliflower red noses. The guy, himself? Rotund. The Jovial Joe type. Maybe ten feet off the passenger side of his car was one of those shopping cart corrals. 

Jovial Joe took one look at the cart rack, pushed his cart to the center of the parking space next to him where he then left it, strolled back to his car and drove away. A broader view of the Supercenter parking lot revealed the same scene repeated again and again. Carts in the middle of parking spaces everywhere. Cart racks? Not so much.

So I have long wondered about Walmart customers. Across the country no matter where you go they are challenged this way. Starting with the a priori assumption that these are not just rude or thoughtless people, I have come up with some possible solutions in no particular order as to their likelihood of efficacy.

(1) Equip the cart corrals with some form of tractor beam that activates whenever a cart is anywhere nearby. Customer participation not required.

(2) Equip each cart with a device which locks people out of their cars until the cart is placed within the cart corrals.

(3) Require people to rent and return the carts for a refund. Charge $10.00

(4) Equip the cart with a taser type devise which zaps people whenever they attempt to leave the cart anywhere except inside the cart corral.

(5) Shoot offenders.

Some of these solutions may seem a bit inhumane. Aw shucks.

Later

Michael's Chronicle: The Letter C

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 19
The Letter C

Catastrophe, chaos, confusion and computer. Know what these words all have in common? They all start with “C.” Sad, because it’s the third letter of the alphabet. The third one. Three is one of my favorite numbers. Three stands for good in my book. So why does “C” have to go and sully such a good thing? Computer is the worst offender of all in my experience. It is the place where good intentions go to die. This morning, at 2:57 a.m., computer had gone and trashed me again. I wanted to smash it. Gentle me. Nice me.

The time signature on my iPad read 7:37 last night when I pressed the button affirming that I was indeed booking the reservation with Airbnb for an important stay in Sarasota next week. iPad unexpectedly and cruelly berked out a notice: not so fast, buddy. We need to check your I.D. in order to complete this reservation. You’re on hold. It ordered me to take a picture of a government photo I.D. and submit it for “verification” purposes. A.I. (artificial intelligence - some genius has gone and connected those two words), which had taken up residence somewhere in my iPad, shortly informed me that my I.D. as submitted was invalid. Try again, it ordered me. My thought at the time was, “Inconvenient but I’ll do it.”

I re-submitted. Minutes later the notice came that my I.D. was once again deemed invalid. “Try again,” I was told. Annoyed this time, I did. Guess what happened. You got it - same result. Beginning to steam, I called a contact number in San Francisco on the other end of which was a syrupy nice woman who proceeded to walk me through a variant of my image submission after which she said she’d get back with me. She didn’t. A.I. guy, on the other hand, did. He rejected me. Again. Let me remind you now: where’s all this taking place? That’s right. In computer land. And what letter does computer begin with? Could it be “C?” I called again. This time a guy answered. Again, nice. Unjustified hope set in for a moment.

Round four was repeated. By now it was well after 1 a.m. I was informed that a specialist would be contacting me by email to work things out. He did not. Over an hour later Mr. A.I. got back with me with a curt message that I needed to re-submit again by 2:57 a.m. or my pending reservation would be canceled. Worn out at last I went to sleep thinking I’ll just try VRBO in the morning. Think I could just call them? Better yet, maybe a motel. But please, no more “C.”

Later

Michael's Chronicle: Mural Dogs on a Building in Sarasota

 

These guys share one thing in common - blind optimism.

Michael's Chronicle: Doors

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 16
Doors

Uncertainty and unanticipated circumstance attract my attention. Always have. As a person who travels for a living I have come to expect and, in fact embrace, the unexpected. I could cringe and dither. Really. Those are completely normal human responses. Most people I know would empathize with me. We’ve all been there.

The silver lining around things going terribly wrong (as in my airline debacle of Monday) is that these things create space in our lives. Unexpected space but space nonetheless. My inability to travel back to the shop in this case opened the week for attending to a pet (and quite important) project. It also gave my dense life room to breathe. The two are not unrelated. I had a really productive day yesterday in the realms of product design and inquiry. Head space and available time made it possible. Doors close and others open. I am grateful for both.

This weekend’s event is in Boca Raton, a place along the South Florida east coast whose name literally means “Mouse Mouth” or little inlet. The event, sponsored by the Howard Alan group, is called Boca Fest at the Town Center. The weather forecast is kinda windy, kinda cool but no rain. We’ll see.

Later

Michael's Chronicle: Industrial Morning

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Industrial Morning

Some folks wake up
To the crows of roosters
In places where
Night actually sleeps
Here, not so much

Industrial waste
Needs Management
Garbage trucks announce
The dawning of
The new trash cycle

Soundscape
It’s all around us
Breathing in our ears
Pulsing, insidious
In our minds

What comforts one?
Familiar sounds?
Roosters and dumpsters
Really quite the same
To different minds

Both heralding
In their disparate ways
The end of repose
And the urge
To get things going

Michael's Chronicles: What a Difference a Day Makes

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 16
What a difference a day makes

As I sat at the airport yesterday disparaging - well - airports. I was punished for being so narrow minded. After all, it is a closed marketplace. From whence does this form of travel commence? Oh……airports. That’s where the damn planes hang out. Yesterday, at least in my case, they did precisely that. Hang out. Nothing else. They just hung out. I ate two airport meals and went nowhere except in my mind.

There is this nasty little thing called weather. Not my weather - not in Tampa, mind you. Freezing rain hit my connecting destination, Houston. My son Joah, several days earlier while booking my journey back to the studio for the week, had asked my preference - did I want to route through Chicago, Denver or Houston. Let me see, it’s winter. Hmm. Where does bad weather hang out this time of year? Oh yeah, that’s right. Up north. Give me Houston, I told him. No brainer.

I was unmoved when they announced that the Tampa to Houston leg of my flight would board an hour late. The Houston layover was going to be three hours anyway. No biggie. At the revised time we boarded the United flight and headed out onto the tarmac where we proceeded to sit for an additional hour, at which juncture it was announced that we would be heading back to the gate to await updates out of Houston. The icy runways I would have expected at either Chicago or Denver had been somehow reassigned by the Travel Gods to Houston. Not exactly a resounding affirmation of my wisdom in choosing Houston as the transfer point. In fairness, a soothsayer would not have seen this coming. Total miles traveled toward home: one quarter of one. Hope the tarmac enjoyed my visit. Final score: Weather Gods 1, Michael 0. 

Michael's Chronicle: Travel Day

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 15
Travel Day

Every day seems like a travel day to a roadie (that would be me). Capitalizing the “T” in the word travel means an airport is involved. Not one of my favorite places. I don’t mind flying. That’s not it. I just don’t like airports. Not any of them. Not since 911. This, I know, is a fifty cent complaint about a hundred dollar problem. Airline security is a serious issue which requires patience, cooperation and empathy toward TSA officers who get more than their fair share of flak from irritated travelers. I get it. I just don’t like it. 

Don’t get me started on airport gift shop pricing for the common small candy bar. Since complementary snacks on most flights and for most fares are ancient relics these days, those who lacked the foresight to visit a convenience store en route to the airport are relegated to deciding if that Hershey bar is actually worth $4.59 plus tax. Perhaps there is a toy inside.

So, my inbound flight is delayed as is the outbound me. The family of four seated across from me in the departure gate area is still asleep. Still, because this has been the case ever since I arrived about an hour and a half ago. What are they dreaming of? Blind crabs? Rotary ear plugs? Three legged eggplants (uncooked)? Perhaps it is a collective dream. I am not at ease with any of it. Perhaps I’ll commence with ignoring them. Please excuse me for the moment. Need to shine my sneakers prior to boarding. It is strictly prohibited in flight.

Later

Michael's Chronicle: Six

 Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 13
At the show……..

It was those pop bottle thick glasses that first caught my attention. I asked her age and she quietly replied, “six.” I wondered how one so young had vision so challenged. Six. She seemed transfixed by the instruments but when I asked her if she would like to play she said “No,” she just wanted to listen. Her mother was gently urging her to move along, as there was “more of the show to see.” But the girl was hearing nothing of it. She closed her eyes. It was a moment where vision didn’t matter. And I was there. I got to see it all.

Michael's Chronicles: Flat Birds

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Flat Birds

I’ve seen you in the air
Flapping the wings
And acting real cool
You make it look easy

I’ve heard the chirpaderp
Folks are enchanted
By your songs
I’m pretty neutral
On that one
Got any real words?

And the nesting thing
All those stolen twigs
You think you’re the only 
Basketmakers?
What about the Indians?

So let’s get down to business
Howdja let that car hit you?
Cars can’t fly
How did you manage that?

It’s OK though
When bird lovers 
Mention your species
That will be an easy one…..

Flat birds 

Michael's Chronicles: Bonita II

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Sunday the 14th
At Bonita, day 2
Prognosticators

I do not prognosticate. Not my métier. I’m more of a hunch guy. Prediction is probably a higher order and more grounded enterprise than gut feeling. On a day like today there’s clearly room for both. The air is chilly, and the clouds are pregnant with moisture. Low hanging fruit for even a news channel weatherman. Everyone at this show today knows it’s going to rain. It’s not even a hunch. Mid 60’s. Maybe. Football and beer weather. Outdoor art fair - not so much. We’ll see how many intrepid souls venture down to the park to walk the art show. I’ll be here to greet them.

Later

Michael's Chronicle: Passing Clouds

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Passing Clouds

God I’ve seen some bad times
Good ones too
Moving parts, this life
Passing clouds

No heads no tails
No tortoise no hare
What matters most?
The destination or the journey?

I care not
How quickly it all moves
But please don’t bore me
With same old same old

I’m impatient
Photos are fine
But given the choice
I’ll take the movie

I can’t be here
Without there
I can’t be now
Without then

I’m Ok
With rain on my parade
Just give me
My passing clouds

Michael's Chronicle: Bonita I

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 13
Bonita I

They refer to the three shows as Bonita I, II and III. Today is the start of One (I’ll just ditch the Roman numeral). Pretty stout wind this morning. Refreshing, truth be told. It’s blowing away the humidity. Don’t need that. I grew up in the desert. Enough said. Desert, got it? We don’t mind sweating. Not at all. But we do have standards. One’s sweat should not sweat. Sweat squared is wrong. If one is caught with humidity on one’s property where I come from, he will be ticketed on first offense - maybe jailed for a day the second time around. He’ll get the picture.

Anyway, first event of the year. Gotta start somewhere. First quarter shows are all here in Florida - the place to where winter refugees from other parts of the country flee as the weather deteriorates. Snowbirds. I’ve been doing shows here since the mid-80’s. Beats shoveling the white stuff in Flagstaff, the home of my studio. I’ll fly back after the show, work all week, and return for next weekend. Till later……..

Michael's Chronicle: Fresh Horses

 

Michael is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me his thoughts.

Jan 12
Fresh Horses

I must begin with my Whole Foods encounter from this afternoon. Having set up my display at the Bonita Springs Art Festival, where I am exhibiting this weekend, I stopped in at the market on U.S. 41 en route back to my motel room in Naples. No rain while setting up but the skies opened up on me in the parking lot of Whole Foods. Super soaker. No big deal.

The cashier noted my soggy condition and asked if I was “all right.” What kind of question is that? When did all wet mean not all right? My arguably flip response was that I had been swimming around for the entire nine months prior to my birth so being wet wasn’t much of a thing to me. She gave me “the look” to which I simply said, “you asked.” Hrumph.

I’ve not done the January Bonita show before, so I decided to try it. I have scheduled a number of first time (for me) events this year. It is so easy to keep going to the same well, as it were, even as it shows signs of drying up. Most artists who’ve been around for awhile are slow to change their scheduling habits and are slow to notice that they may have saturated a market, preferring often as not to characterizing an event whose sales numbers are trending downward in negative terms.

To be fair I know plenty of artists who, as I do, rotate the shows to which they apply as a hedge against burning out markets. There is no guarantee, given the potential vicissitudes of the road show marketing model, that changes in venue will guarantee success. On the other hand, there’s something to be said for fresh horses. I embrace change in this realm. New vistas. New faces.

Michael's Chronicle: Tallahassee

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me things.

Jan 11, Tallahassee

I woke up this morning staring at the popcorn texture on the drywall ceiling of my room. I do this often. I won’t call it hypnotic or addictive, but I will admit to engaging in it with indefensible frequency. This morning’s scene was that of a guy in a boat. He had a very pronounced forehead (Neanderthalish) and seemed to be fishing for God knows what with a very long carrot. It made no sense. I’ll leave it to the reader on this one.

The point is that the mind wanders to interesting places if one allows it. I choose to leave my mind loose that way. I have never wondered why. The cashier at the Love’s truckstop made the mistake of asking me if I had seen anything interesting today. I told her about the fisherman, leaving out the entire context. The perplexed look on her face was worth the price of admission. 

She struggled for words forming at last what looked like the question, “What?” on her lips but sans any audible sound. I simply said, “You asked,” and walked out. I have things to do. Places to go.

Later

Michael's Chronicle: Houston

 

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me things.

Jan 10, ‘24

Stayed in Houston last night. Shared my motel room and bed with roaches. Not the large sort - just small ones. But still, not my kinda guys. I’m circumspect about such things. I’ve always been advised - and I agree - that one should choose one’s friends carefully. Some of my little “friends,” so to speak (and in the interest of full disclosure), did not fare well. Thoughts and prayers.

This morning’s olfactory treat has been the stank of the I-10 petrochemical corridor between Houston and Beaumont. Where’s the potpourri when one needs it? Just came from the men’s room at a Sam’s Club. I am of the opinion that toilet lids in such places should be raised prior to use. Aim being such as it is results, as they say, may vary. This morning’s prior user was proof of that one.

Well, on to Louisiana, bayou driving and a fund raising highway patrol. Been there. Avoided that.

Later.

Michael's Chronicle: Sherman

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me things.

Wednesday, Jan 16
Sherman

Sarasota was about a half hour behind me this morning on my way out to Fort Pierce when I heard that my friend Sherman was gone. Son Joah had found him in his bed and knew right away that he had left. Sherman’s exit journey was a long time in the making. Between end stage COPD, heart issues and at least two different cancers the man was a walking bucket of bolts. 

For years my friend had struggled with exponentially growing health problems, not all of which were related to the relentless deteriorating effects of aging on the human body. He was seventy eight - six months older than I. I had known the man for some twenty plus years and had been witnessing the decline for at least the past fifteen of them. Heavy smoking and alcohol consumption are not among the known aides to living a long healthy life. These habits were the foundations for his demise. He knew it.

So a dear friend has traveled on without me. I do not miss him. Not one bit. He lives in my heart and mind and I am warmed by memories of our friendship and times together. It is a long, interesting and often funny story of two men from biographically different planets who shared a deep and enduring relationship for what amounted to a third of their lives. There is an indelible quality to such things. I am writing about Sherman and me and our times together. I will share the story at some time in the future.

Can you hear me, Sherman? I love you.

Michael's Chronicle: Moonsliver

I haven't had a lot to say on my blog in recent years, I have to admit. I work a day job, and my writing has slowed down, though it hasn't come to a complete halt. My brother Michael is a different story.

Michael Thiele is a woodsmith who makes musical instruments and playable furniture. He spends most of his life either in the shop or out on the road buying wood and selling his work at craft shows. In recent years, his travels have begun to inspire his own writing, so he sends me things. I asked for his permission to post his ramblings on my own (neglected) blog. So things are about to get busy around here. Join Michael on the road, fabbies. Here goes.

Moonsliver, Jan 9

Orange
And barely a sliver
There on my morning horizon
You’re hardly a guiding light

I’ve seen real moons, you know
Fat ones, bright as hell
Throwing shadows
Off skinny chollas

Who needs a blinding sun
When Full Moon’s in town?
Barely need headlamps
You’re not that
Not that at all

So what do you bring?
What is your offering?
I’m waiting
And watching

Maybe your subtlety,
Your understatement
Is a message
Maybe there is something in it

Slow down
Breathe the day
The road is long 
Life is not all bells
And whistles