Saturday, March 10, 2018

                                                              Photo by Ingrid Mathews

When the night retreats
Curling back over the mountain
Slipping soft to shadow in the wood
Inking down into the bottom of the hour
When the golden moon trembles
Like a fading tambourine
And a wing of gossamer cloud
Streaks the heart of morning with a prayer
When a promise
Pries beneath the lidded world
Pouring lava through the hills and
Silvering the stream
When this is how we begin
There can be no dismal end

Sara Mathews     March 2018
Ingrid Mathews photography

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

                                  Jeremy Paul ~

The rain is calling me
This morning
With tremulous voice
Come out into the garden
Heavy with tears
Dazzled with sorrow
Laden with memories
Each blade of grass
Each jeweled flower
A chorus of great sympathy
Wells up
Wracks the heart
Reaches out to me
The mercury sky
The sodden day
The dismal sparrow
The swelling symphony
Completely mine

Sara Mathews     January 2018
Rainy Day - sparrows by Jeremy Paul (used with permission)

Saturday, January 20, 2018

I would like you to miss me
I don’t wish you sorrow
Or unbearable grief
Or despair
Just that you keep a special place
Away from anything mundane
A sacred spot
Where time and schedule
Have no hold
An island in your heart
That sand and water
Can’t erase
Nor years erode
And ceaseless current
Of all that living life requires
Must stop
And eddy there a while
Swirling memories

Sara Mathews     January 2018

Sunday, January 14, 2018

               Photograph by Ingrid Mathews 

What makes a morning
Following goodbye
The indecisive
Grey blue
Blue grey
Sky of in between
Here nor there
Things that might have been
A slant of solemn sun
Peers through
The sponge of teary cloud
Wish for me
Though the dried leaf
And the ground lacks life
And a chill hangs 
On every word
There is a glimmer
In the dying
A circling of hope
As other arms
Reach out with longing
Wanting for you
Waiting for you
All these days

Sara Mathews     January 2018

Sunday, December 31, 2017

Before the night lifted away
Like a little black bird
Catching a sigh
Before the day even spoke
Before the morning’s silver breath
Enchanted the window pane
And the golden sun rolled down
Each snow struck roof
Before any bird had thought
To fill the barren branches
With a song
And the brittle vine to chatter
On the sill
And the memory of moon
Press faces through the dawn
Before all this
I somehow knew
The day was filled
With every kind of hope

Sara Mathews     December 2017

Sunday, December 17, 2017

A little chirp of morning
Calls to me
The day is grey
But here am I
The ground is drear
But here I sing
The wind is harsh
I swing the course
A little chirp of morning
A cheerful chap
Then how can I
But chirp
Right back

Sara Mathews     December 2017

Sunday, October 8, 2017

An autumn wind blew in
Sighing on the sill
A fluttering of waning dreams
A song of purple Aster
Heavy with the bee
Of Sunflowers swinging drunkenly
And Queen Anne’s lace
A touch of night still
Guards the swollen grape
The warming sun
Concocting spices never named
Or bottled
The scents of childhood long ago
Besetting me
They wander past and
Waft against the shore of me
They drift me down a country road
A nip of frost beneath my toes
The glassy air
The cobalt blue
A rush of color at my feet
Ah, September
To be young!
She has me wholly in her grasp
And leads me hungry
To this memory
I pluck the essence from the laden vine
And hold the last few breaths
Of summer
On my tongue

Sara Mathews     October 2017