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
our forsythia doesn’t bloom, never having been properly pruned the workmen (dirty-jeaned, bantering) being more adept at paint and plumbing than the etiquette of flowers © Sarah Whiteley
yesterday, I carried a sprig of Sweet William three miles to a favorite poet’s grave simply because you do not have one and there, the trees were a free-for-all of birds – oh, gorgeous, noisome riot! some other Spring mourner before me had left a … Continue reading Sweet William
take from them what you can – there are wiser things than those that carry discernible voices – down the street near the park, five cherries are marked with orange distorted by time and poor nourishment (it’s no surprise they’ve failed to thrive) and within … Continue reading there are wiser things
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
I would bury them, my sorrows, deep into the loam - into the comfort of earth, and dark, and waiting I would bury them, these burdens, beneath the roots of the locust that stood as witness to their birth I would bury them, my troubles, … Continue reading I would bury them…
The crows are nesting, the violets are blooming, the dogwood is budding, and I spent part of my Saturday reading on the porch in a glorious bit of sunshine. It’s Spring! At least it is here in the great Pacific Northwest. And I’ve decided to … Continue reading Another Giveaway!