Latest Entries
all you small-winged things…
Art / Poetry

all you small-winged things…

all you small-winged things of summer, you flighting crickets in starred cathedrals chanting psalms beneath your leafy pews all you sweet-furred creatures gracing the sweet green shadows under dark-limbed spruces enchanting the August moon, all you fragile, all you gentle butterflied tides delighting asters in the purple noon all you gratefully athrive, arise in quiet … Continue reading

feathers
Art / Poetry

feathers

August again, and the jays are leaving feathered remembrances in ones and threes on the sidewalks beneath the trees – showing sweet-shadowed maples the best places for leaves to lay come October © Sarah Whiteley Back with a new look! The idea is to begin incorporating my photography and art into the poetry blog (tiedtosky.wordpress.com … Continue reading

Poetry

the side porch sessions

earlier, a hummingbird busily inspected the bricks, perhaps mistaking them for other, more sweetly yielding reds and now Charlie, incongruously tattooed, the color of strawberries and cream, leans against the rail and half laughs about the man who tried to kiss her down at the bar two gin and tonics in, and the dusk rises … Continue reading

Poetry

night swimming in Tulum

turtles are the only traffic here – moving slowly landward with the June-shadowed moon under palely trailing feet and a torrent of stars all day, the sea bloomed – bursting brilliant in white florets against the sand but at night, the upsurge eased and sun-brushed curves containing all the day’s heat submerged into cooler divulgences … Continue reading

Poetry

The Dictionary Fairy

at night while I lie sleeping tucked quietly in bed his tiny feet come creeping as quiet as the dead he’s a wingéd little being smaller than a mouse he sneaks with no one seeing through the darkened house his little wings are dusty like the books he holds his breath’s a little musty and … Continue reading

Poetry

messenger

a truth-teller follows me, skating from tree to tree this morning his black is ruffled by a stiff wind and his message is more raucous perhaps as a result but even on quiet days it is much the same but one morning, he’ll cry “a-ha! a-ha!” when he sees that I finally get it © … Continue reading

Poetry

at Sleepy Eye

days stretched out so long, they toppled off the end of the weathered dock into the spring-fed cold at Sleepy Eye among the shadows between the pilings swam the uncatchable ghost of a walleye (suitably fish-tale-sized) someone years past had called Walter every summer we saw him jump, breaking the lake at dusk, just offshore … Continue reading