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

the afternoon after

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the afternoon after arranges itself - black limbs, off-white shroud, the dark of the damp on the interrupted grain of the bench end where I've settled for solitude, for seeking the green among the gray the afternoon after © 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

November chickadees

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November chill rusts the dogwood, scatters the locust seeds down the sodden street the maple this year shows an unusual reluctance for red but today gray was made a near beautiful thing - a frame for the darker darts of the chickadees in the yellow goodbye of the chestnut tree © Sarah Whiteley