the betweens

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

false hope

you were never and are not and yet then again that crumbling moment when the sun subsides and a farewell fire clings to the bellies of the clouds --you are dappled like that the glow about the edges of the end of my day though I am capsized it may yet be this way again-- … Continue reading false hope

a winter life

I have not dusted them away those days like daffodils in December they lie quietly below snowy crusts nestled deep down in the dormant dark beneath sparrows' flittering feet whose beaks seek out the forgotten seeds of some summer come the day when I am old and remembering perhaps what spring once was recalling with … Continue reading a winter life


crow night's star-dusted feathers drape her blue-black whisperings covering over the green of gloaming in the absence of light I fall to forgetting eyes tight-closed against the possibility of loss feather-tipped unknowing brushes away the dust of hope nothing gold can stay? then I pray in the wake of crow night's flight as she drags … Continue reading untitled

small thanks

a thousand miles from family these empty shelves my only company over a dinner of reheated noodles still I give thanks for finding the strength to hold me up to carry me through this chapter's end for the courage to begin again and for the heart to hope for better days © Sarah Whiteley