Tag: moon

boating at night

the boat of course is metaphor
though it is, undeniably, night

and fingers do trail over the side,
but also over stern and bow

it is also true that we do move as water –
that hair cascades and skin ripples

but that again is metaphor,
for which I am unapologetic

and I cannot be at all contrite
for not minding stirring up depths

or were we to drown together
beneath the moon’s regard

in fact, my heart, that may be all
that is certain and indisputable

© Sarah Whiteley

November morning

morning blushes
when she realizes where she is

and the moon
still alight travels through her

down the hill
toward its own reflection

an early crow
sitting on the tip of the pine

scolds them both
for tarrying

© Sarah Whiteley

night swimming in Tulum

turtles are the only traffic here –
moving slowly landward with
the June-shadowed moon under palely
trailing feet and a torrent of stars

all day, the sea bloomed –
bursting brilliant in
white florets against the sand

but at night, the upsurge eased
and sun-brushed curves containing
all the day’s heat submerged
into cooler divulgences

© Sarah Whiteley

I have a very unofficial sort of bucket list. It changes all the time, but there are a few things that have remained constant and one of them was skinny dipping in the Caribbean. And Tulum last June was the perfect place to fulfill that particular wish – amazing experience! I’m heading back in October and am trying very hard to convince the beautiful person I call boyfriend to come along with me.

In other news, I think I’ve decided to combine Ebbtide and Tied to Sky into a single blog. Things may become a bit messy here while I play around and decide how I want to revamp the site in order to better accommodate both poetry and photography/art. My apologies in advance for the chaos.

Be well!

almost spring moon

the insistence of clouds
makes of this a barely moon –
a struggle against
the low skies of winter

and yet yesterday
I watched a robin stridently pipe
his wish for a willing wife
from the top of the power pole

spring, though still disguised
in her winter veil,
emerges from the damp –
shyly purple, in violets

© Sarah Whiteley

evening fragment

I am transfixed
by the kiss
of sickle moon
to black pine
against infinite
ink of sky

© Sarah Whiteley

Anyone else catch that large and glorious crescent moon in the sky a few nights ago? So beautiful!

untitled

the moon has captured me
by the ankles, is
crawling through me
and I must burst
into new surfaces

this morning my hands
awoke, and for the first
time in years, ached
to find something other
than air beside them

but even without
the solid press of
your arm on mine, I
have found wonder in this
upended cup of stars

© Sarah Whiteley