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thinking of those days behind the wheel, cat stretched across the dash, exemption stretched out along straight, gray highways trying now not to swallow that hook, though lately it seems the city hates me, shoves me toward her swilled-to-the-gill gutters back then, there was the bag kept in the back and it didn't matter that … Continue reading *

at Sleepy Eye

days stretched out so long, they toppled off the end of the weathered dock into the spring-fed cold at Sleepy Eye among the shadows between the pilings swam the uncatchable ghost of a walleye (suitably fish-tale-sized) someone years past had called Walter every summer we saw him jump, breaking the lake at dusk, just offshore … Continue reading at Sleepy Eye

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

summer

sun warm summer honey clings in slow drips to fingertips the bees pulse in reels honeysuckle drunk and leaves sleepily weave the golden hours between cicada beats seconds slow and time is measured by the gentle bend of sweet green blades and the dappled dance of maple shade © Sarah Whiteley

Seattle spring

green is slow in coming and I am nostalgic for aimless tripping through greenhouses and salt-scented air hinting of fish and far-floating drifts of sea-bound-weed for a few weeks lilacs will tint the breeze with fondness and daffodils blaze the beginning of evening treks under rain-tipped magnolias on moss-covered walks past the sweet molasses coffee … Continue reading Seattle spring