Tag: trees

last night, the trees

last night, the trees stood up
and proclaimed their poetry
to one another

something in the twilight
inspired them, though not everyone
paused to hear it

but I and the day’s last robin
halted our respective routines
to acknowledge what was clearly
extraordinary

© Sarah Whiteley

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 of petals

© Sarah Whiteley

insomnia

craving stars, I crept down the crouching hallway, disturbing only moths seeking their own small allowance of light trees sleep, lowering their limbs by fractions as the day subsides, leaving only the incremental gestures of slumber I have had to explain often the peculiar edicts … Continue reading insomnia

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

feathers

August again, and the jays are leaving feathered remembrances in ones and threes on the sidewalks beneath the trees – showing sweet-shadowed maples the best places for leaves to lay come October © Sarah Whiteley Back with a new look! The idea is to begin … Continue reading feathers

autumn’s end

the bees have succumbed to drowsiness
and the honeysuckle’s dropped,
replaced by the final asters
bowing low in blue reverence of sky

the river birches arch their yellow-graced
necks over the pond where drifts
of silver fish begin their quiet
descent to barely being

maples wait in flashing ranks,
upturned and expectant of lowering skies –
their red fingers signalling retreat
into stasis, when cooling saps no longer rise

and for now, we too forget our own restlessness –
stretching long in the last of the golden light –
hearts faint-pricked by the leaves’ moments
of letting go, watching the sun pull the light away

© Sarah Whiteley

Spending time with family in Wisconsin (and reminding myself once more why I live in a milder climate). Will catch up on reading when I return. Peace!

a remedy for wistful

I could watch (have watched)
that pine for hours
and the purple sand cherry –
currently slowly balding

seeing the yellowing
of the locust leaves
always makes me feel
just a little bit wistful

leaves that in a few weeks
will blow away to wherever,
leaving me here with
an unending view of rain

of streetlights and drainpipes
and that black shadow pine –
sometimes with crow,
but oftentimes no

hot tea, a splash of whiskey,
open window, open book –
a secret home remedy
for wistful

© Sarah Whiteley

I swear I’m really not feeling this melancholy – I love the fall. I think this is in part due to lack of sleep! Two nights in a row with almost none – perhaps hot tea with whiskey is a remedy for that as well?