storm at Rachel Lake

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every branch was made big with wind while we sat diminished hunkered down with steaming cups, muddied boots, cold-red cheeks, together beneath that orange tarp cracking with every gust we stayed, shivered, laughing while others fled the storm - a splendid day, my splendid friend © Sarah Whiteley

for Shi Shi

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out here the rain and your book are my only companions, and the only thing that matters is the campfire and keeping the sparks (bright, living) from too-close legs where fabricated light cannot reach solitude is no longer secondary, but breathes with my breath, and pauses in the dark - intending everything, but only later … Continue reading for Shi Shi

Joy (repost)

the good days Freude, are those days that schoener Goetterfunken in spite of the noise Tochter aus Elysium, the naggings wir betreten the sagging weight feuertrunken, of worry, responsibility Himmlische, the ignorance dein Heiligtum. and uncarefulness deine Zauber of others binden wieder the sometimes blatant was der Mode disregard, disrepair Schwert geteilt of how the … Continue reading Joy (repost)

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 … Continue reading what the day contains

Whole-Hearted

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A new little piece written for a friend's birthday. He's one of those rare people who lives whole-heartedly and finds something to appreciate in every moment. I hope you enjoy!

writing home

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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 damp for comfortable reading, and coffee for now is confined … Continue reading writing home

the creek

I lived once alongside the creek with its green tumblings and blue pools, where younger hands than these knew the language of the ridges in the bark of the oak that created a bridge of itself - a path to the tall grasses fanning the sky on the other side, where the small adventures of … Continue reading the creek

at Talapus

that day at Talapus the jays played in the pines above gracing our fingers with intrepid feet - strikingly light and agile things - like briefly holding a sliver of delight - bright-eyed and fleeting, as joyous things tend to be © Sarah Whiteley

1.4.2015

Freyja Clown Hat

Freyja-dog, who finds treasure in green felt clown hats discarded on damp sidewalks and joy in the orphaning of bright socks and mittens, gladly bears the burden of my happiness. On good days, she skips after the crows when they tease her and spins whirling dervish style in ecstatic circles at the feet of her … Continue reading 1.4.2015