more familiar
with the betweens
than with the origins
and destinations
and that, I suppose,
is the nature
of the journey we take –
a conglomeration
of moments framed
by first and last breaths,
by the hopeful fogs
of tomorrow’s mornings
and the dry silences
of last year’s gardens
© Sarah Whiteley
the afternoon after
arranges itself –
black limbs,
off-white shroud,
the dark of the damp
on the interrupted grain
of the bench end
where I’ve settled
for solitude,
for seeking the green
among the gray
the afternoon after
© Sarah Whiteley
the gulls face the waves
perched on their own reflections
water reaches
nothing is washed away
except time from this day
© Sarah Whiteley
this is where I begin to feel
the pull of other roads
and if I lose you in the unwinding –
still, it is better than
the knots of not leaving
there is a necessity now
to disentanglement
and that yellow blaze
down the middle is not
the regret we expect –
but only the way forward
© Sarah Whiteley
the sky demonstrates
the way to shatter,
regroup in puddles,
and upon reflection
find a way to shine
© Sarah Whiteley
I avoided the place
with the dahlias this year
unwilling to stand
bland among the bursts
of petals last seen
through a cheerier hue
© Sarah Whiteley
I am becoming
the color of fall
when it stoops
to November,
russet when it
succumbs to gray
in quiet,
unnoticed ways
until suddenly
the briar leans
bare against
the fence
bleak, wild
and forgettable
© Sarah Whiteley
I’d forgotten about the starlings –
had drowned their raucous cacophonies
in the deepening days of August
until just now, the noisome rush
plummeted into the honey locust,
whose yellow is now heavily inked
by the sudden weight of wings
© Sarah Whiteley
at Shi Shi, Sept 2015
in my truest life,
I have learned
to know my own bones
and to love
the companionship
of my own thoughts
when alone
and yet to
appreciate still
the return to home
© Sarah Whiteley
you are mistaken, dear friend –
it is not loneliness
to be in such a space,
where solitude might be
relievedly embraced
it is not lost
when the venturing
writes a trail to
rediscovered peace
© Sarah Whiteley
ebbtide 