at the end of the day

mint tea in the mug with the gingko leaves
with an extra squeeze of honey –
you know, from the bear-shaped bottle
I could never resist in spite of
(or because of) its silliness

somehow the steam against the chin
erases the sort of day it has been –
one of uncertainties and niggling headaches,
disorientation contending with
those first hopeful expectations

and I am tired of the way worry
pokes at my ribs with sharp-ended fingers,
but mint tea and a warm light
against the night outside my window
soothes and smoothes the edges

so that I can fold it away
because afterall, come tomorrow
today will be yesterday’s news –
best forgotten

© Sarah Whiteley

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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!

Aruban Meditation

this day I,
with the calm cadence
of waves beyond blue,
will breathe the sea
and recall roots
that delve deeper
than the everyday
beginnings finger deep
into sugared sands
and float free
with fronds fluttering
green-fingered farewells
to invented obligations
this day I,
with the quiet certainty
of knowing oceans,
of fathoming the fall
of light on upright arms
and upraised faces
loving long the heat
of slow island hours,
will let time
in slow caresses
smooth calming cure
into care-drawn core
this night I,
with the deep peace
of wafting winds
and the teasing kiss
of an Aruban moon,
will lie as the lizards
upon the shore
beneath forever
and bask in the sigh
of Caribbean skies

© Sarah Whiteley