Thursday, August 11, 2016

                                               ~ Unravel ~  by Christopher Volpe

I am spark
I fly
Into the heavy grey
The storms of hot July
I spin into a furnace cloud
Inhale the sky
I am thought
I soar
Into the fitful night
I float the inky sea
I navigate the outer banks
I am eye
My vision sharp
I see
A soul below
That looks like me
I am note
A solemn bass
I climb each octave
Of the atmosphere
I throw my voice into
The wilderness of space
I am tear
A drop of rain
I fall upon the cheek of cloud
We open up
And cry aloud
I am spark
I am ember
I am ash
I lilt between the thunder crash
And gently drift
Back down

Sara Mathews     August 2016

Artwork by Christopher Volpe  (used with permission)

Thursday, August 4, 2016

The air was sad tonight
Or was it just a cloud
I strolled into unwarily
Not seeing
Not watching where
He or I
Might be going
I felt the change
A cold front
Coming over me
I tried to shake him off
Walking faster
Dodging quickly down a
Different street
But he kept up
Quite handily
Not one to be denied
So I resigned
And brought him to my door
He slipped inside
And made himself at home
He gathered up his gloominess
And settled in a chair
Right next to me
We talked the weather for awhile
I tried a couple jokes
But he was bound to be morose
And so we sat
I kept him quiet company
Then made us cups of cloudy tea

Sara Mathews     August  2016

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Whisper to me
In quiet breath
Dawn to day
Stir softly at the pane
The curtain lace
A graceful dancing leaf
A blossom new
Lift my face
To mother sun
And blush of grace
Think softly to me
A gentle thought
Me from yesterday
May I begin anew
Spin me slowly
From cocoon
Hold lightly to me
Don’t slip away so soon
Lay a silver spell
Upon my mind
Let me fall into
In a pearl of dew

Sara Mathews August 2016

Photo credit flickr ~ Jenny Downing

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

For days the heat beat down
The air was thick and heavy
And we had a feeling
You were coming
We just did not predict the fury
You were brewing
You held it in
Until you couldn’t take it anymore
And erupted with a force
That sent the treetops sideways
Bowing down before your tirade
Who knew that hardwood was so limber
I watched in awe
Until the wall of water
Shuttered out my view
And I was in a ship at sea
And battling waves
Of rain and ice artillery
Pelting our safe harbor
You rocked and battered at our boat
And we were under siege
And stunned
By your attack
You raged with such ferocity
An ambush
That caught us off our guard
There wasn’t time to bring the horses
Under cover
And I fretted that they wouldn’t
Find a shelter
From the onslaught
When suddenly
You just withdrew
All spent
And fired out
We were reprieved
You snuck away
And left the battlefield to be surveyed
The swath of your advance
Was something to behold
Trees upon the ground
And tangled up like pick up sticks
The pine trees took the biggest hit
They always feel the blow
They are the infantry
The foot patrol
And seem quite transient anyway
With shallow roots
Halfheartedly in place
So I don’t mourn them terribly
The horses made it through unscathed
And were no worse for wear
Perhaps a bit subdued
But the casualty
I most despaired
And stopped in disbelief
To find him on the ground
Was the old pear tree
An orchard elderly
The one my brother tended lovingly
With several years of life support
And a crutch of sorts
To prop his tired limbs
Oh, why did you have to conquer him
I bowed my head in sadness
And said a little prayer
For the fallen pear

Sara Mathews     August 2016

Friday, July 29, 2016

Was it
In silent flight
Or owl shadow
Or wisp of night
A darkened corner
A lonely street
We set our course
Porch light

Was it
Summer’s sleeve
Of balmy breeze
That carried me
To tropic isle
The softest seas of
Sweet July
Rolled under me
In concrete mile

Was it
Silken gold
That filled my mind
With incandescent
Dreamy love
I lingered in the afterglow
Of wading through
The clouds above

A city moon
A gilded street
We traipsed the summer night

Sara Mathews     July 2016
Photo by Jody Roberts

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

                                                                 Melissa Ann Miller

Here in these hills lies grace
Here where the suns rolls slow
Yawning gold
Blushing new
Stretching wide 
Across the range
Embracing me
In subtle 
Ephemeral hue
Tints of pastel prayer
And possibility 
Here I breathe the color
Cup my hands
Dip my brush
And find the truth

Sara Mathews     July 2016

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

The tempest
Of the storm
Is threatening
The skies
With great sweeps of
Rage that have the trees tops
Pitching perilously
Like ships at sea
They roll with every wave
And mighty swell
And beat the air
Like giant brooms
With every angry gust
And I wonder
What the fury is about
What pent up sorrows
Or frustrations
Have gathered in these heavy clouds
That whip across the
Darkened afternoon
What emotions held in check
Too long must now erupt
In petulant outburst
And rearranging of the heavens
A strange blue cricket
Has landed on my porch
The likes of which
I’ve never seen
A little alien soul
Blown in from other shores
Off course before this wild wind
And what of the poor birds
They must be clinging to the nest
With eyes shut tight
And praying that they built
Foundations strong enough
To weather and withstand
This twisting, writhing ride
Do you think they knew
To batten down the hatches
Do they bail for all they're worth
Amid this torrent
And hold their breath
Until the surge subsides
One lone bird
Is singing
To the storm
A brave attempt I think
To keep his courage strong
And I admire his approach
And valiant song

Sara Mathews     2016