tonight I and the quiet
make a companion of the rain
whose soft staccato taps
at the window as if
asking to be let in
this – the first silence
in weeks – is as welcome
now as any old friend
or comfortable shoe
we fit, you see, without
straining and fill
without words (without
asking) the nooks
and bends of the other
’til I am quiet and quiet
is me and all is right
with the rain coming in
on the sill
© Sarah Whiteley
let me be silent
as the stones
that mark the line
between earth
and air
and sea
let me rest
with purpose
cool intent
edges smoothed
by time
and tide
and there
let me watchful wait
for two shores
that never meet
cold kissed
by rain
be still
be small
be awake
to all
moved unmoving
let the waves
curl and call
and the air
moisten and fall
be as stones
unmoved
and feel it all
© Sarah Whiteley
cover me in clover
let the sparrows
pass me over
and the calling curlews
cry the dying day
let lilies lie together
with growing grasses gather
to whisper the ways of we
the whys of me
the ties that be
and being, ever are
let my fingers lace the leaves
and my eyes transcribe the sky
between the trees
that tower silent over all
my hair in ivy twining
and I, I lie repining
in the hollow with the wind
among the waving of the rye
dim dance the stars
drawing up the rising moon
in hours ever darkening
as night takes flight upon the air
let the roses drop their petals
and the pansies press their breath
against the hill where mosses
grow to softly pad my rest
shield me in shadows
in the bower only crows know
where the river flows
and wends amidst the reeds
with the summer softly sighing
her song sweet respite plying
let the dew fall chilly gleaming
upon my dreaming breast
call the swallows
to the hollow
and the wrens
to guard my rest
and sing the days of we
the ways of me
the ties that be
and being, ever are
© Sarah Whiteley
ebbtide 