children should be Invincible
impervious to anything
beyond skinned knees
scraped elbows
their only worries
worms on sidewalks
the coolest pencil box
and whether Grandma
is up in heaven
looking down -
not going to see for themselves
© Sarah Whiteley
Sometimes it’s either let it out, or fall to pieces. This is me letting it out. Hug your kids, people.
If you’ve been with me for any length of time, you’ll know that one of the main reasons I began this blog was to rediscover my creative side – something I felt I had lost along the way. It’s been a journey. And as with any journey, sometimes you end up in a rather unexpected place. It’s all just part of the adventure, my friends.
Here’s where my journey has led me… the publication of my very first chapbook, No Direction But Home via ALL CAPS PUBLISHING.
I am two parts terrified, and two parts proud – but entirely ready for the adventure. No Direction But Home can be purchased here (or by clicking the picture above).
Want a signed copy? Use the Paypal button I’ve set up below – eventually I will add a page to the blog with access to this option as well. (Be sure to indicate who you would like it inscribed to!)
Also, go and check out ALL CAPS PUBLISHING – there are some fabulous authors ready for you to read and more on the way!
Thank you! thank you! thank you! to all of you for the support you’ve shown me over the past 4 1/2 years. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t in part for your kindness.
And a special thank you to Marian, who thought I was worthy.
the unfinished fence
stands
several feet yet
from the wall
as if it too
paused to gaze
at the wisteria
© Sarah Whiteley
I am utterly in love with the spring this year. I am blessed with beautiful walks, wonderful four-legged (and two-winged) companions, and the good sense to cherish the quiet moments that are given to me.
Stayed tuned for some very exciting news later this week!
the joy of being a bird
must be enormous -
no one else
sings so long
* * *
crow testing my crow-ness
settles beside me
to scold the garbage truck -
my silence fails the test
* * *
first day in May,
jagged bits of sky -
stumbled upon
the first robin’s egg
* * *
© Sarah Whiteley
Not everything I write down becomes a full-fledged poem. But sometimes the fragments are enough to make me happy.
this is the moment
when I am unearthed,
when I am at last unbound
by mundane constraints -
now, when the birds
at their riotous best,
launch their relief that yes,
day again brings light
in a canon shared by wrens
and robins and flitting juncos
from trees whose slow buds
are indecently near to bursting
now, when the still low sun
lifts slowly above the hill,
when light is burnished pink
and leaf-filtered
here I am both more and less
myself than at any other moment
and piercingly in love
with every greening tree
© Sarah Whiteley
the dogwood holds out its buds
in tight-fingered spring,
weeks after the juncos began to sing
and the robins to trill their territories
even the cherry trees twisted with age
have thrust their changing into the air,
as though they feel the need to prove
they can still and burst themselves
pink with the effort
all this for clutches of crows’ eggs
and creamy crowned daffodils
nodding delight in spite
of a fresh invasion of snails
© Sarah Whiteley
It is done. I officially finished with the deadline madness at about half past eight tonight. There will be plenty of clean-up to handle, but the hard part is over and done. I can’t say I handled myself with complete grace in the last few hours and I’m a little ruffled in spirit right now, but I think a good solid weekend and returning to a normal workflow will set things right.
Anyway, I am so happy to be back and in a place where I can start writing more regularly and visiting all those lovely writerly corners of the web that I’ve missed during the past several weeks. (You know who you are!)
darn crow stole my lighter
- my only one -
and tossed it into the bushes!
now bobbing head and ingratiating
croons his desire for treats
- the black-feathered cheek! -
but for the next hour, I watch
him tuck them carefully beneath stones,
treats now, treasure later
© Sarah Whiteley
I figure it’s about time for a crow update. Head on over if you’re curious about the cheeky little things…
survival lies in pocketing
what small moments I can,
so that later they might be
pulled out and palmed,
turned over by questing finger,
examined by much-deprived eyes
here are the snowdrops
bedecking the mossy rocks,
and this one’s the blazing splay
of last Tuesday’s sunrise
dripping down the mountainside,
and here are those few
stolen strains of Bach
sounding the robins
to their sleep at the end
of a work-worn day
© Sarah Whiteley
Just a quick note to say I am still alive. Buried beneath the weight of thousands and thousands of pages of tax returns, but yes – still here. I really do think I survive this time of year by seeking out whatever small moments of peace that I can; by taking the time to say “look! here is something beautiful that I can carry with me in my mind.” And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee.
At work, that’s where. Go here for the update.
things have changed
my hands are cracked now,
for one thing,
and red where the too hot water
from the shower hits them
the burning stays
everything else seems to go,
though, in one direction
or another, somewhere
other than here anyway
I wrote you
someplace there’s a draft of us
waiting on the final edits,
before we close
that envelope for good
things have changed
my elbows are older,
for another thing,
and I’ve let the gray grow in
like a reminder of who I’m not
but my shoulders miss you
and the water’s still hot
© Sarah Whiteley
