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 trees, the sidewalks surprised by pink – awash in piles … Continue reading April windstorm

the winter roost

the crows come again, perch within the remnants of summer - turned to rust and rue; they've come again with their own narrative, their inscrutable truths - strike their own lines against November's sky, while we try blindly (futile) to navigate stolen darknesses; fixed, and non-migratory - roosting in huddled groups for the long and … Continue reading the winter roost

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 damp for comfortable reading, and coffee for now is confined … Continue reading writing home

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

uncommon company

uncommon company comes cawing -purple gracing black- knocks politely on the wood, awaits his morning snack ****Crow Update**** It's been a while since I've done one of these and perhaps it's overdue? Coyote and his mate (now called Magda) had no surviving offspring from the spring's hatch. There's really no telling what happened but I … Continue reading uncommon company

reluctance

seems every corner these days, yellow reluctance hangs from the trees but can you maybe see the small promise in the perchance-forgetfulness of coming wintry rimes where we might biding sleep 'til wakened by warmer times © Sarah Whiteley

reconciliation

a dozen dark-eyed juncos, full of bright yes-es, skitter through a feast of fallen cones for days now I've carried the polished comfort of a horse chestnut like a talisman though no earthly charm will reconcile the leaves back onto November trees when October finally yields © Sarah Whiteley

2.5.2015

the crocuses have awoken, a defiant yellow flare against the bricks and my shoes have grown fonder this year of puddles than I might wish so much so, that my toes have pruned by the end of the day yet I am reluctant to cast them off - who am I to come between lovers … Continue reading 2.5.2015