Tag: birds

April windstorm

the winds that rushed in yesterday
to strip branches of their blooms
flipped trash can lids, sent them
spinning down the street,

cast crows into chaotic aeronautics
and sent all songbirds deep
into their shrubbed shelters

but today, they come out singing
blithely tumbling between trees,
the sidewalks surprised by pink –
awash in piles of petals

© Sarah Whiteley

what the day contains

brown drifts of coffee grounds,
and the tappings of the black-capped chickadee
finding rhythm with the tick-ticking
of spring rain on new-green locust leaves
the passing hours mold the morning
into the firmer lines of day,
tracing the flights of fugitive birds –
red hawk, wren, house finch, crow,
ubiquitous dust-winged sparrow
shadows lazily skate and shift,
thumbing plants and spines of books,
shelves graced with inconsequential treasures –
of feather, stone, and sloping shell
the peonies on the window,
barely beyond their prime,
settle into fading brilliance
with unabashed aplomb
and if it might seem I forget you
amidst this gentle roster –
you’re the one, though absent,
who gives the hours their reason
and this simple room, its light

© Sarah Whiteley

writing home

the small-birds have finally found the window feeder and the dogs are enthralled with their sudden proximity we are well, though feeling the spring in our bones – that gentle eruption debuts a new brand of restlessness the boards of the porch have been too … Continue reading writing home

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the gulls face the waves perched on their own reflections water reaches nothing is washed away except time from this day © Sarah Whiteley

2.11.2015

a riot of starlings has settled in my head – a cacophony of ink blots – and I wonder, when they all at once take flight, which bits of me will be left behind?