some bears wake in winter
to snow and stone –
too soon and alone
a dense isolate against the gray
I imagine the great shaking
of sleep from fur –
the unconsidered solitude
the dark, inviolate grace
the huff and shudder
of breath and muscle –
and then the moving forward
into pale emptiness
of necessity, resolute
© Sarah Whiteley
so cold, not-quite-rain
hisses through the husks
of the locust pods
later, this ice will gentle
into hushful snow –
which absolves all,
forgives everything
and for a blessed hour,
every branch will
outshine the moon
© Sarah Whiteley
the finches had much
to say today –
about the dampness
of the day,
the amount of seed
remaining on the sill,
the early dark and
the lateness of light
winter prattlings,
cold weather natterings –
so different from
the ardent liltings
they will trade
between the buds
in the spring,
but enjoyable
to ears all the same
© Sarah Whiteley
My apologies for my absence lately. Some large projects have been keeping me rather busy which means that finding time and mental space to write has been difficult to say the least. Unfortunately, reading the blogs I subscribe to has also fallen by the wayside recently. Of course, not having internet at home since before the holidays has complicated the issue. However, that particular problem should (fingers crossed) be rectified this weekend and I will hopefully be able to start catching up on my reading and my writing soon.
My best friend and I have a hiking motto, birthed during our first adventure together through three miles of calf deep mud and down a hundred foot cliff (one of us with only one working hand at the time). That motto is “straight through the middle!” Meaning that sometimes the only way to get to where you are going is to keep moving forward. In news of the major life adventure variety, I am making arrangements to leave Seattle after many, many years and relocate to Colorado in March. The Universe has basically been yelling at me for a while now that It Is Time! So with much nervousness (and much exhilaration), I’m holding myself to that motto.
I will miss my quirky crows, my beloved Cascade Mountains, all those rainy hikes, porch beers with neighbors, and of course my best friend. But there is also so much that I am looking forward to: new hikes, new neighbors, new adventures, and finding new inspiration all around. So if I start writing about changes and leavings and whole families of dust bunnies found while cleaning out closets, you all will know why.
With much love and gratitude,
Sarah
on new snow, I inscribe
only footprints –
there being nothing
that the leaves have not
already said
© Sarah Whiteley
an early snow this year
icy and hard, it woke me –
hissing and insistent
through the crack in the sill
the dogs both dig deeper
into my side, settle once more,
and sigh – little heart-furnaces
© Sarah Whiteley
The weather this year has been hard on the dogs and little Angus especially is feeling his age lately. But it’s amazing what comfort a dog can bring into a life – and I am blessed to have both of them for as long as I may.
My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press. Pre-orders through March 22nd will have an opportunity to win a canvas print of the cover art. Click for details!
I cast my faith on daffodils –
on the steadfastness of green
and promises of gold
I can believe in the movements
of worms, shaking up earth
beyond visible proof
I accept the testimony of buds
before their exhalations –
modest currency of Spring
I can discern a mystery in dirt
and a truth rests in my spine –
that some bright morning
the burgeoning will arrive
© Sarah Whiteley
My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.
if I could freshen the day
like flowers kept
in the ironstone pitcher –
trim away the wilt,
snip the calloused ends,
gather up the fallen curls
of color from the floor
if I could invite the breeze
to brighten the gray
garland of winter hours –
I might better stand the sting
of lingering February
and find the light
amidst the hardened snow
© Sarah Whiteley
My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.
our days of heavy snow
have shattered the plum trees –
snapped their branches until
they stand now in the night
silent as broken men
the rain now exposes them,
these splits in branch
and dangling bough –
only Spring will ascertain
whether the heartwood sustains
© Sarah Whiteley
My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.
on some nights, like this one –
out in the snow near to midnight –
the size of living can be altered
for a short time, I can be small –
a warm-furred mouse trailing punctuation
across the unmarked drifts
© Sarah Whiteley
I took the most enchanting walk through the falling snow late last night. The streets were quiet and not a car moving in sight. Every tree was wrapped in white, and the night felt huge and soft. Sometimes it’s nice to find these reminders that I don’t need to leave the confines of the city to find peace and contentment in nature.
My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.
the old snow settles in,
becomes crotchety
stubborn in its insistence
on retaining territories
but the new is coming –
eight inches forecast
to whisper its cloak
over the dogged old
for now, I step gently –
cautious of sheen
and crunch, only at intervals
glancing up at the stars
© Sarah Whiteley
My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.
ebbtide 