Tag: seasons

April windstorm

the winds that rushed in yesterday to strip branches of their blooms flipped trash can lids, sent them spinning down the street, cast crows into chaotic aeronautics and sent all songbirds deep into their shrubbed shelters but today, they come out singing blithely tumbling between … Continue reading April windstorm

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writing home

the small-birds have finally found the window feeder and the dogs are enthralled with their sudden proximity we are well, though feeling the spring in our bones – that gentle eruption debuts a new brand of restlessness the boards of the porch have been too … Continue reading writing home

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I avoided the place with the dahlias this year unwilling to stand bland among the bursts of petals last seen through a cheerier hue © Sarah Whiteley

I am becoming…

I am becoming the color of fall when it stoops to November, russet when it succumbs to gray in quiet, unnoticed ways until suddenly the briar leans bare against the fence bleak, wild and forgettable © Sarah Whiteley

the weight of wings

I’d forgotten about the starlings – had drowned their raucous cacophonies in the deepening days of August until just now, the noisome rush plummeted into the honey locust, whose yellow is now heavily inked by the sudden weight of wings © Sarah Whiteley