winter sunset on Puget Sound

restless, and not quite,
I walked out across the ice
in search of the last
of the evening’s light

found it draped upon the trees
all long and golden –
so sweet and splendid
the shadows followed it,

chasing it down the hill
until I, still standing,
lost sight of them slipping
into the clear, cold Sound

© Sarah Whiteley

My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.

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the restitution for winter

the restitution for winter is this –

the modest wink of a wood violet,
a bit of bright among
the passing season’s debris

© Sarah Whiteley

I suspect that this is a snippet I will eventually expand upon. But for now, I think a nice little reminder that there is hope amidst the cold is fitting. Keep safe out there!

My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.

wild, and hush, and joy

“I walk, all day, across the heaven-verging field.” – Mary Oliver

at times, I have brought you along for company –
you and the pale trillium in that sheltered pleasure
found beneath hemlock and cedar, under second-growth pine

at times, I walked convinced I might hear you clearly
were the cascades not so Spring-ly loud,
or the whiskey jacks such engaging distraction

this morning, you have become the river
and I am grateful for the wetness of January,
for the gleaming mud that slows me down,

and for all these wild and gentle scents unfettered,
here where words like wild, and hush, and joy abound

© Sarah Whiteley

luminosity

lately, I have not been so adept
at creating my own

but have become better at least
in the search for it

in hunting out the straggling streams
ushering along the broken light of winter –

streamfronts and lakesides,
and damp on long-dropped leaves,

and everywhere the subtle, persistent gleam
of cedar beneath the rain –

these have become my candle
against the winter’s dark –

there is peace in found luminosity,
and joy in unveiled light

© Sarah Whiteley

hiking near the Pacific Crest Trail

thirty-two water crossings
and just shy of ten miles

later, I might discover
a jealousy of this stone

but for now I am here and
its perspective is mine –

yes, it is possible to be
both cold and cradled

for exhilaration to rise
from old bones and leaf mold

I am more I, more in
while I am without

it is life that kisses me
through creek-wet feet

© Sarah Whiteley

sleeping bears

sometimes, between the long span
of months in which I do not
think of you at all,
I briefly consider calling you up
to ask you along for a hike

for a moment, not thinking how
having you there would so alter
the trail, that what lies before
would amount to steadfast avoidance
of what should be left behind

sometimes I consider calling you,
but let’s leave it there –
leave it as we would a sleeping bear
without the thaw of spring to shake
the old frosts from her fur

© Sarah Whiteley