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

flower etiquette

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

Sweet William

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 tiny, silver "s" of a snake - something you (poet, … Continue reading Sweet William

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

2.12.2015

snippets from the past few days the snowdrops have been stepped on by some unwary foot - they are closer now to mud than to sky - but the crocus persists and the daffodils are showing their greening tips I had to side-step several puddles of blood on the sidewalk outside the office one morning … Continue reading 2.12.2015

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