*

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

the uprooting

I imagine the mint went first,
followed closely by the flares
of the nasturtiums, and the phlox

the day of the uprooting

the delphiniums would have been
crushed, curls of pearl and sky,
into the soil that fed the roses

when the garden was pulled

yet strange that the winter sage
was left alone beside the rue
beneath the emptied trellis

© Sarah Whiteley

Yesterday marked 7 years since I first started ebbtide. 7 years since I made the conscious decision to begin writing again in an attempt to reclaim the creative side of myself that I felt was being pushed aside or squashed by the everyday. 7 years of readers, of sharing, of emerging friendships which could not have happened without this blog.

And so thank you to all of you who have passed through this little corner of the world, whether you’ve left a mark or not. Thank you for the support and the kindness and the critiques over the years. This place has been my succor and my salvation in many ways. And I am beyond appreciative for the positive changes that have come about as a result. So thank you.

weed philosophy

by the roots, you say,
but sometimes the roots
are impossible to get at

or they’ve spread immeasurable
tendrils in countless directions
so that even when pulled,

pioneers still bust the sod
and burst in yellow jeers
at all my efforts

may as well give in
(nature always wins)
and call that weed a wildflower

© Sarah Whiteley