The sun shouldered his way through the crowds
Quite forcefully
As though he were bringing me an urgent message
And hot as a brand he shone upon my mind
My morning
Transforming my ideas
Clearing hazy introspection
Be aware
Be aware
And then as quickly he was gone
Drifting back under throng of deliberate cloud
But it was enough
An almost personal appearance
A calling from aloft
To make something of this day





Sara Mathews     December 2016

This is my morning
My grey beginning
My heavy shawl of rain
My teardrops etching sadness
Down the pane
My heartbreak
Weighing heavy on the leaves
My birds in quiet kinship
As we grieve




Sara Mathews     November 2016

I take joy
In the little things
Swirling cream to my coffee
Sharing toast with the cat
The roof deck where the grape vines wither
And cling to the unpicked fruit
Spicy with frost
The sun just skimming the rooftops
Tracing a last path of summer 'cross my face
I take joy in a deep full breath
Of autumn
The sharp smell of leaves wet on the walk
Their last hurrah
The crabapple silhouettes
Lingering in the concrete
A sweet cider scent
Still perceptible
I take joy in my comrades
The squirrels anxious with errands
And the echo of the crow
Out of sight
But vibrating the cold uncluttered sky
And filling my ears with a message
To take joy

Sara Mathews     November 2016

My window on the world
Shows me yesterday
Although
I’m sure it is today
Yesterday’s news still flutters
Down the street
Yesterday’s blues
Still puddle ‘neath the rose
The birds are on a loop
Repeat
Repeat
The clouds remain
Their shape the same
The sun is in repose
Yesterday knocks
Well meaning
From the West
I draw the blinds
And choose
Today



Sara Mathews      November 2016

A Seneca wind blew
Through the tops of the tallest pine
I thought it was dream
The meaning was elusive as this native wind
It stirred in me some deep
And ancient memory
My feet were getting way ahead of me
Anxious as they were to follow
And my heart too
Leapt on ahead of hesitation
My earthly self was nervous to let go
To breathe the life of one
I used to be
To know
I filled my lungs with recklessness
As I was wanting answers
And let the wind control
It carried me on reminiscent wave
It brought me up to Eagle skies
To heights I’d never dare
It showed me worlds
I used to wander
The tears came swiftly then
Ancestral rivers overflowed
And rapids rushed with clarity
And the Seneca sun shone full
Through the tops of the tallest pine
And the Eagle cried
Welcome home




Sara Mathews     November 2016

I woke up dreaming of the wind
Though there was none
Perhaps the softness of it’s absence
Was the silent siren song
That made me think of you
The way the curtain hung
Anticipating
One small breath or
Sigh
To indicate the morning has begun
Perhaps the tiny leaf
Un-spun
Was why I thought of us
Awaiting gale and gust
August
Autumn
All
Are motionless
With indecisiveness
We wait for you
To carry us
On wings of fall




Sara Mathews     October 2016

Last night
I walked beside the moon
A quiet
Reassuring confidant
He hung with me
And traipsed the autumn eve
Listening when I spoke
Nodding knowingly
As though my words were his
One mind we were
He floated through the clouds and
Cleared the trees
To shadow me
A constant company
My mother said
Her moon was cold
Just a couple towns away
The coldest moon she’d ever felt
Or seen
But I
Did not find mine
Aloof at all




Sara Mathews     September 2016

                                               ~ Unravel ~  by Christopher Volpe
                                                    http://christophervolpe.com/


I am spark
I fly
Into the heavy grey
The storms of hot July
I spin into a furnace cloud
Unravel
Breathe
Inhale the sky

I am thought
I soar
Into the fitful night
I float the inky sea
I navigate the outer banks
Remote

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)
http://christophervolpe.com/

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
Immediately
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

Whisper to me
Morning
In quiet breath
Transforming
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
Morning
A gentle thought
Unleashing
Me from yesterday
May I begin anew
Spin me slowly
From cocoon
Hold lightly to me
Morning
Don’t slip away so soon
Lay a silver spell
Upon my mind
Let me fall into
Reflection
In a pearl of dew




Sara Mathews August 2016

Photo credit flickr ~ Jenny Downing

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

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




Sara Mathews     July 2016
Photo by Jody Roberts

                                                                 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

melissa anne miller studio

http://www.mcgowanfineart.com/blog/perspectives-yours-ours/

http://www.mcgowanfineart.com/

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

The words you wrote
So long ago
Have wandered through the years
Today they walked across my mind
And wrought a thousand tears
The hand that placed
The sadness there
Still lingers on the page
And love that broke
A father’s heart
Is penned in neat despair




Sara Mathews     July 2016

Things to do
They call
I try to hide
I tiptoe quickly
Up the stairs
Slip behind a door
Sneak outside
Things to do
They ring
Like company
They just pop in
And peek through
Window pane
And I retreat to shadow
In the wings
Hold my breath
And pray
They go away
Things to do
They wait
They know my tricks
My methods of escape
They build a blind
And patiently they sit
And when my guard is down
They ambush me
And circle round
I struggle
Strain
Resist
The things to do
But then
To keep things fair
I cheerfully submit




Sara Mathews     July 2016

It’s a different light
This morning
A crystal shell of atmosphere
Bids me tread with care
Lest I shatter the illusion
Am I inside
Or out
I want to knock against
The day
I want to press my face into
The clearness of opacity
A window so clean
That hides so much
Intrigues frustration




Sara Mathews     July 2016

We sit with rain
Waiting for nothing
We watch
Drops drop
Some heavier
Syncopate the leaves
Like cymbals
Splashing bold embellishment
Contentment lingers round
No thirst
And cardinals abound
They love my little house
Like me
We share an island of tranquility
And other birds are harmony
We pause to hear
Our mourning dove
His soft reminder
Gentle prayer
My island birds and I
Revere




Sara Mathews     July 2016

                                                           Duy Huynh
                                              http://www.duyhuynh.com/


So many things
Little boxes
Stacked against the wall
Of who I am
They wait for sorting
Mistakes
They nudge
Remember us they clamor
I was young
Or younger
I reply
And try to tuck them back
But they are firm
You must have dark
And light
They say
Moth
And butterfly
So many things
Sweet memories entwined
With twisted past
A breadcrumb path
And follow it
I must
At times
Eyes wide
To what I might
Uncover




Sara Mathews     July 2016

Artwork by Duy Huynh  (used with permission)
http://www.duyhuynh.com/

                                                 Photography by Ingrid Mathews



There is forgiveness
In the morning
The slip of skin
Transforming
In the mists
Before the day
Rebirth of mind
And spirit
Lingers softly in the wings
Step lightly to the world
The dew of dawn
Strews diamonds on the lawn
Now breathe a baby's breath
Behold with newborn eyes
You’ve never felt this morn
You’ve never seen these skies





Sara Mathews     July 2016

Oh, how the rain goes deep
It knows my soul
It weeps the joy and sorrow
Both the same
And years of dusty memories
Come clean
Oh, how the rain cries truth
Soft springing to my eyes
In tributary tears
It flows
To streams of love
And loss
Reflecting pools of
Innocence
In echoes
Ripple through
From other realms
Of rain




Sara Mathews     July 2016

There are feelings
That have no words
They are more like clothes
They go
Where you go
You can shed them
For a while
Hang them up
Tuck them away
Wish them well
But they know
You know
They are ever there
Waiting for that morning
When nothing else works





Sara Mathews     July 2016

What is this green
A jade like glow
But softer
More a mossy hue
But deeper
It evades my mind
Of any color to describe
Hazel
Emerald
Peridot
With amber lowlights
Slipping past like
Golden silk against my skin
I float on the elusiveness of
Velvet water
Where I glide
I dive like otter
Flip like fish
And revel in the green abyss

Until the sun begins to slide
And fade the evanescent tide
And I am bathed in dusky greys
And blues
Of every evening shade



Sara Mathews     July 2016

                                                        Photography by Beth Wode
                                            http://www.bethwodephotography.com.au/


Silence spills
Like sand
It fills
The spaces of my mind
The pauses
Indentations
Catch a breaths
The ums and ahs
I gather up
These tiny motes of time
Let no words pry
The interlude
No voices try to push
Between
The quietude
It’s mine




Sara Mathews     July 2016


Beth Wode (used with permission)
http://www.bethwodephotography.com.au/

Days like these
There is no struggle
To recall
No sifting through
The rubble to retrieve
No dust to sweep from
Distant muffled memories
The songs of you burst
Through the fog
And swifts of feathered sighs
Upon my shoulder
Breathe ’remember’
Blue teardrops
Fall from sweet forget-me nots
And thoughts of you fill
Flowing brooks
And whistling larks perch
On the breeze and
Echo true
In days like these




Sara Mathews     June 2016

Spring Garden by Roelof Rossouw ~ South Africa

                                                      http://www.art.co.za/roelofrossouw/


The light plays
Piccolo
High
Fragile
Earth thrums alto
Below ~ below
Clouds crowd
For tulip’s solo
And a little wren sings naught
But listens
The sun leans
Against the pickets
Happy for the rest
As honeysuckle taps
The rhythm
Scratch
Scratch
A metronome of fingers
On the fence
A world of whole notes
Shower me
Confetti bits
Of happiness
I fling them to the rhapsody
On morning air




Sara Mathews     June 2016

"Spring Garden' by Roelof Rossouw  (used with permission)
http://www.art.co.za/roelofrossouw/

Softly
She comes to my window
Reminding me once more
That darkness is her other side
Sweetly she whistles happiness
Dark
Light
Day to night
Is what he knew
When the sleeplessness
Would overtake
And restless heart would wander
Ever searching for the thing
He thought was missing
But truly never was




Sara Mathews     June 2016

A perigee
Is rising
She clears the trees
In gold abandon
And does a ribbon dance
With wisps of cloud
That linger on the breeze
A mother moon tonight
She calls down
To her moon babies
Below
A summoning
From field
And thicket
Like pilgrims on a trek
With brilliant lanterns swinging
They gather from afar
To celebrate the solstice
An evening fete
Of glitz and glimmer
On the lawn
They revel
In the celebration
While I look on
In envy of the grand event
Wishing I could spark
And shine beneath the
Fullness of the summer sky
They call me from my doorway
And beckon me to try
So I light
A little votive
And hold my offering high
And dance amid a garden
Of moonlit fireflies




Sara Mathews     June 2016

A gentle morn
Caresses me
Undoing worry
Erasing lines
Last night’s turning
Tossing troubles
Sleepless yearning
Surrenders
To the golden light
To brilliant bird
To poppies bursting
With the answers




Sara Mathews     May 2016

I swam out to the middle
Of the world
Taking nothing for my journey
With just a sun as guide
And a moon upon my other shoulder
That floated down to be with me
And peacefully we drifted there
Nymphs of water
Nymphs of air
The three of us together
Suspended in the buoyancy
Of deepest lake and largest sky
And with no weight to anchor us
We gave our fates to God
And left our fortunes
Intertwined
In green
Reflections
Of the stalwart pine




Sara Mathews     May 2016

                                                                         Duy Huynh
                                                              http://www.duyhuynh.com

I haven’t had
My sun
Today
I haven’t had the rain
It’s just a sky
Of sort of
In between
No one has come to
Clear my roots
Or given me a name
And I am just
A nondescript
And with the wind
I blow
And wonder where
To put down roots
And where
The wind might go
For now I’m just
In dormancy
A sorry little seed
Waiting for
A drop of rain
A bit of sun
A name
And most of all
A tender hand
To tell me where
To grow




Sara Mathews     May 2016

Artwork by Duy Huynh  (used with permission)

http://www.duyhuynh.com/

It’s the little things
That twist the heart
Like milkweed silk
The breezes caught
They drift across the mind
As words of song
Too long unsung
Though melody remains so clear
I strain to hear your voice
In the refrain
Each note a whole eternity
These haunting memories
Play in me
Like old and scratchy
Attic reels
Unwinding dear
To trace a silver tear
Of long lost time

Sara Mathews     May 2016

It’s the emptiness really
The heaviness
Of a heart going down

Down
To the depths
Of the other sad ships
The bone yard bound

It’s a desolate street
And the ghost town
Sound
Of its hollow beat

It’s the breathing that’s rough
The ragged air
Of feather
And beak

The restless hands
The concrete feet

The bereft wing
Of a nest-less thing

It’s the leaving





Sara Mathews     May 2016

                                                               Linda Dessaint Fine Art
                                                               http://lindadessaint.com


Out of the mouths of birds
That’s what I’m thinking
As I pick
They fly into the trees at my approach
And from their lofty seats
They scold me anxiously
Oh, not the biggest
Not the best

A golden doe and fawn
Have bounded to the thicket
At my step
And Mother snorts at me impatiently
An interloper on their morning picnic

A path of trampled grass
Tells me the wild turkeys
Made a hasty exit too

The only ones who do not seem alarmed
Are several buzzing deer flies
Orbiting my head incessantly
I’m almost grateful for their generous
Acceptance
Their willingness to abide with me
And their droning feels like music
In the midday sun

I reach my hand right through a spider’s web
Causing him an extra day of work
Another creature I’ve annoyed

The berries drop into my bucket
Guiltily
And I have the feeling
Of being watched from every quarter
An unwelcome intruder
You let me pick here grudgingly

Do you not remember that
I belong here too
I walked these fields
All summer long
A barefoot child
I tramped through juniper
And brambled undergrowth
And knew this berried pasture
To my native core
I’m one of you ~

The heat wave overstayed his welcome
And taxed the ripe fruit heavily
So today I feel I must pick sparingly
And leave some blue upon the bush
For you

I wanted just enough to make a pie
But I will be content with half a pail
Enough for cake or tart

Come out from thicket
Down from trees
Retrace your way through grassy paths
And gather what I’ve left for you
The field is yours for you to roam

I depart the feast reluctantly
And my new friends
The deer flies
Politely see me home!



Sara Mathews     May 2016

'Flower Child' by Linda Dessaint
http://lindadessaint.com

                                                    'A Dream of Spring'  Christopher Volpe    
                                                              http://christophervolpe.com


It gathered slowly
Like sadness
The mist that seemed to appear at once
Like a ghost ship
Crested a wave and was there
Just at the top of the new mown field
Yves said the morning’s warm rain -
- the cool evening
Brings the small cloud forming here
We raise a glass in cheer
And celebrate July
And talk of where we’ve been
And gone
I watch the sadness
Slip across the hill
Behind your eyes
I say how wonderful to be
The keeper of our happiness
And you agree
But keep a secret emptiness
You say you stitch
A bead for every tear
Instead of love
You tell of Pecos ghosts
Dissolving
Into mist
Resolving life
You talk of tribes
Of leaving one to find a more accepting
Kind
I too am mist
I too
Appeared
For just a night
To be with you
I too
Am made of warm rain
And cool evening




Sara Mathews     May 2016


'A Dream of Spring' by Christopher Volpe  (used with permission)
http://christophervolpe.com

I strolled into the month of May
A morning filled with spring
And joyously I praised the day
As were the other flowering things
I passed a lilac throwing boughs
Of perfumed spells at me
And fell into the depths of her
Intoxicating lavender
And hovering there
Amid her blooms
I turned into a butterfly
And barely flitted free
And rhododendrons boomed
Exploding fireworks
Of ruby red
As corals of azaleas shed
Their tutus at my feet
Like melodies they drifted
Lightly down the sweetened street
And all the human bees were out
Their little motors buzzing
Darting happily from shrub to shrub
Edge trimmers humming
And every green was bursting
With a splendid flag to fly
In vivid yellow vibrancy
And purple pent up energy
They shouted all excitedly
Their colors to the sky!




Sara Mathews     May 2016

                                                    James Peart @  https://society6.com/jamespeart


There was no point
I knew
While closing my umbrella
The rain had stopped ~
But still I felt the need
Of some protection
As melancholy seeped
Into my bones
In ways of all the loved ones
Lost
And things that might have been
Mercurial
Inclement drops
Of dismal thoughts
Still poured
My soul a sponge ~
I opened the umbrella once again
And took small peeks beyond
To watch my step
But otherwise stayed firmly underneath
And there I walked
Secure ~
Though sun appeared
I held my shield
Against the woes
Of phantom rain

Sara Mathews     May 2016

Artwork by James Peart (used with permission)

https://society6.com/jamespeart

An orchestra 

Of gladness

Ushered in

This first soft 

Day of May

While phoebes called

A joyful tiding

To the morn

The thrushes

Clucked their alto notes

And staccato sparrows

Chirped along

With the trilling flutes

And woodland song

Of other friends

I cannot name

But they all knew

The score

A far off woodpecker

Kept the beat

And even the

Raucous crows

Sang sweet

From every quarter

Of the wood

The morning music

Echoed round

And my heart was filled

With morning sound

Sara Mathews     May 2016

Duy Huynh ~ Charlotte, NC

                                                      http://www.duyhuynh.com

I am made of words
Small
Important
Sustaining words
Gentle
Nurturing
Growing words
Repeated and related
In stories of another’s thoughts and
Wrought from other worlds
And longer words that catch in throats
And echo in a voice long since
Remiss with words spelled out
And wrong to some
And held from the deserving one
Whispered prayers of words
Flit off the tongue
And gather into clouds of verbs
They rain
They run
They stumble over unsaid words
The ones that wouldn’t come




Sara Mathews     April 2016

Duy Huynh  (used with permission)  http://www.duyhuynh.com

 Duy Huynh ~ Charlotte, NC 

                                                              http://www.duyhuynh.com

I dreamt a most
Disheveled dream
Of tangled thought
A strangled stream
Of image wrought
Too muddled for a theme
And so I gladly woke myself
To muster something
Of a guess
To what it all could mean
I stayed up to the
Wee hours of the night
Unraveling
And making sense of it
I sorted and deciphered
Filing elements
Precisely where they
Seemed to fit
By alphabet
And name
And as I happily admired
My interpretive success
I realized sadly
It was just
Another dream




Sara Mathews     April 2016


Duy Huynh ~ Charlotte, NC (used with permission)

                                                       http://www.lindawellsart.com

It was just another day
The sun shone gray
The skies cried blue
Doves cooed sadness
Softly
A solitary two
Mourning morning’s
Departing
Nothing new
The grasses greened
In silence
As always
The birds preened
Leaned from nests
Sang true
The flowers blushed
Their pastel best
The breezes caught
A solemn breath
And everywhere
The heart of you
And everywhere
The soul of you
In echoes of
Adieu
Adieu
I wished
And wished
For just another day




Sara Mathews     April 2016

'Mourning Doves' by Linda Wells
(used with permission)
http://www.lindawellsart.com

David Latham

The morning mists are lingering
A somber wardrobe worn
The shrouds and veils
Of last night’s storms
Are draped among the trees
And thrown upon the day
Like garments
Of an evening late
A thoughtless soul
In careless haste
Forgot to put away




Sara Mathews     April 2016

The morning does not call me forth
It’s damp and cold and wrong
The birds are up
But sing
Just bits and pieces
Of reluctant song
And flowers droop their pretty heads
And wonder what has kept the sun
So long




Sara Mathews     April 2016

The morning tastes
Like lemon
On my tongue
The breezes blow
In silks aquamarine
The trees are speaking
Raven sparrow wren
The ground is bursting
Secrets through the green
The clouds throw down
A scarf of woven shade
A glade of bluets
Brings bouquet of snow
And I am simply here
With gratitude
The sun feels me
And likes the way I beam




Sara Mathews  (For Wendy)    April 2016

The tulips wait 

Though darkness comes

And beats me to my door

They wait

And glow like little moons

To welcome me

They cannot rest 

Until they know I’m

Through the picket gate

The night descends

I turn the key

I’m in

The tulips wait again

They listen for my foot

Upon the stair

They shine below my window pane

And wait to hear my prayers

And only when I’m in my bed

And lashes fall

They nod their knowing heads

And whisper 

Goodnight all

Sara Mathews     April 2016

The birds rehearse
With brio
An hallelujah singing
Spring
Blue sky and
Whole note yellow sun
And shoots of green
Like newborns come
And red bud
Bells
On maples ring




Sara Mathews     April 2016

There is no doubt
About your mood today
You got up early
Made your bed
And rose
To wake us all
With noon time watts
At six a.m.
We tried to get another
Hour of rest
But you drew me from my bed
And emptied every nest
The birds are singing choruses
Of praise to your aplomb
And daffodils of sunshine
Are glowing on the lawn
And brushed along each
Branch and bough
Are golden highlights
Of your smile

Sara Mathews     April 2016