I go out

I go out, and come back –
to the low voices of everyday
concrete saying stay,
voices that are each time fainter

I go out, and come back –
in sun, in mist, in rain –
and each time the tether
is less, and closer to temporary

each time the river’s shout
grows louder and I am more
cedar and stone, more
singing creek and warbler

I go out, and I am more
simply by being less

© Sarah Whiteley

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wildness is a necessity

when, as now, the city leans too close –
all cloying constructs, relentless cement

send to me a comfort of simple pine,
send to me an endurance of wind-bent cedar,

give to me the remoteness of ridgelines
and a full solace of placid tarns

what Muir meant made blazingly clear
with each leaden municipal minute

wildness is a necessity

© Sarah Whiteley