little fuses of bliss

little fuses of bliss
confides the woman I once
saw flash an oncoming bus
on a different January day

I played in the snow
in my (ha ha!) mini skirt
when the sky turned blue-black
and what’s up with that?

so beautiful, and I hope
you’re blessed, your day
is blessed and full of
little fuses of bliss

sweet lady, I think,
I don’t mind your kind
of strange contagious
and say thanks

© Sarah Whiteley

mileposts

6:57 AM and light’s early overture
has warmed the cherry petals just enough
that the faintest scent of sweet emerges

maybe it’s more than just scribbling poets
who note these moments and mark the time,
mentally ticking off the mileposts to restoration

but this morning’s note is more than that –
today’s surfacing defines a full ten years,
and the cherry trees have bloomed to remind me

when my bus crosses John Street, I lose it –
cry quietly against the window at sunlight
pushing obdurately through the newest leaves

but by tiny degrees, I still find comfort
in the indomitable certainty that gently-scented,
spring will always return where you cannot

© Sarah Whiteley

A little sad today – marking the 10-year anniversary of losing my little brother. Don’t think I made a complete fool of myself on the bus – at least I hope not. I do find the cherry trees comforting. The bloom does go on.

On a side note, I do not recommend beginning spring by simultaneously breaking your toe and ripping the toenail off. Can we say ouch?! Yes,… yes we can. With a few other choice four-letter words thrown in for good measure!

peaceful gravities

this morning I startled
the sudden green flit
of a hummingbird
beak-deep in the hyacinth,
just as I and the morning
rounded the corner
at Republican and 18th

all things, it seems,
have their individual gravities
with a varying pull between –
and mine is perhaps now
an easier peace due to
the gravity of me with you
underneath the cherry trees

© Sarah Whiteley

I always feel a little special when I see hummingbirds, so this morning it was a nice treat to stumble across the little green fellow in the spring flowers. I was able to head into work a little later than usual today, so got to actually enjoy a little morning light and wildlife. And of course the crows were thrilled I remembered to bring breakfast. One hopped after me like a stray dog begging for more, so much so that a man walking in the opposite direction turned around and stared at me and my little corvid companion for a full block.

One tax deadline is done as of last night. One more spring deadline to go. I plan on catching up on my blog reading this week and weekend – looking forward to it! And after April 15th, there will be a nice little pair of announcements – one a big life transition, and the other just plain old fun!

Be well, my friends!

perfect hour

Sunday morning,
coffee made strong,
maple donuts fetched,
and you still asleep –
wrapped up deep
within my blankets
against the bustling cold
from my open windows

me in my chair,
mug in hand,
feet curled beneath me –
torn between watching
the startling sight
of a hummingbird
in fresh snow or the slow
rise of your shoulders
in bearish hibernation

© Sarah Whiteley

I did see a little hummingbird Sunday morning in the snow. I know of at least two feeders within a block, so I’m sure he’s getting fed, but still startling to see the little guy in the snow.

*

listening to the day’s
wakening heartbeat,
the unseen thrush
trilling in the still-dark
before the January dawn,
I can almost sense you
turn in your sleep –
and this is my survival:
even in the act of leaving
I am always coming home

© Sarah Whiteley

In one more short month, I’ll be heading (again) into lengthy workdays and ungodly hours. Somehow the thought of it is even more difficult this time around knowing there’s a warm and wonderful soul waiting for me at home. And yet… there’s a warm and wonderful soul waiting for me at home! How lucky am I?