Instead of ash
Let us scatter ourselves
While living
Let dust to dust
Catch fire
To gold of gold
Let motes of gratitude
And love
And true intent
Swirl and spark the air
And spread our souls
Right here
When we are still aware




Sara Mathews     March 2016

They took down the dead tree
Across the street today
Ancestral wood
An elder friend
And sentinel of the neighborhood
Where crow would light
And sight the world
From tip top of it’s height
Where hawk and squirrel
Could rest as friend
And whole black flocks
Would fill it’s lots
Where woodpecker knocked for hours
On end
Where swifts would circle round
It’s crown
Where robin reds would hunker down
My cat watched from the windowsill
And seemed distraught as I
They revved their saws
And trussed it up
They raised the bucket high
Irreverently they talked
And joked
In yellow suit and hat
Precaution when you take a
Mother tree like that
I stood in sadness
As I watched the home come down
And among the birds and squirrels
And I
No one spoke




Sara Mathews     March 2016

You have to watch closely
It wasn’t an extraordinary day
Overcast
Slow starting
Grey
I looked upon the morning
While I brewed a cup
My mind still forming
When I saw a little glimpse
Of something new
The remnant leaves
Of last year’s trees
Awakening
And strewn about
Across my view
They started gathering
And there in little eddies
Did they spin and twirl
And all the while
Chattering
Appearing more like flocks
Of birds
They hopped
And flew
And happily they reeled into my yard
Where hanging from a
Lilac branch
A squirrel was spellbound too
We watched together
As they danced
And chirped
And seemed quite independent
Of the wind
A spiral spirit of their own
Their brittle hearts
Still full of life
Within



Sara Mathews    March 2016

Linda Dessaint Fine Art

                                                               http://lindadessaint.com


I watched the Springtime
Garden grow
And marveled at it’s progress
A little Sparrow sat
Amid the branches
Of a waking blueberry
And watched along with me
We admired the Daffodils
Fervent green
And vibrant gold
And we heard the whispers
Of the other flowers
Stirring down below
A pair of happy Phoebes
Flitted back and forth
Collecting bits of twig
And sang a morning song
As the sparrow and I
Looked on
And we thought as one
And sang our praise
To God




Sara Mathews     March 2016

The letting go is hard
Like winter
Clinging to it’s last artillery
A few cold nights that proffer
Perfect temperature for snow
Why should he go
When he can still remain
It’s wasted opportunity
And see the ground still frozen
Over April hypnotized
With doubt
And flowers too uncertain
Or too timid to come out
The letting go of you
Is in that vein

Sara Mathews     March 2016

Don Bishop Fine Art, Portland Oregon

                                                  http://www.donbishopstudio.com


I haven’t been
Alone
Enough to hear
Your voice
I know
And I wait
Nor have I been still
To feel the pulse of you
I will
When curtains draw
And evening sets
The birds to hush
And breeze to rest
I know we will be one
Again
You’ll come to me
And breathe with me
Our souls conversing
Easily
You’ll wrap me in
Your arms
And steady me
Forever tenderly




Sara Mathews     March 2016      For Jen

To go to the woods
In spring
Is to be
A verdant thing
A newer green
And softer yet
Than what you’ve been
The scent of all that’s true
Besetting you
A rich and earthy symphony
Swirls up
From mossy path
To throng the budding branch
With sweeter notes
Than whence you’ve come
And every wooded thought
Of dappled sun
And nymph of forest floor
Breathe through your heart
A new awakening
And sing through every pore




Sara Mathews     March 2016

I am never empty hearted
I always have
At least a hint
Of hope
And sometimes
When it seems
To have gone missing
I’ll find a wisp
Like smoke
That hovers
There for just a
Little prayer
To fan it into flame




Sara Mathews     March 2016

I am that little girl that
Strolls below outside
Each morning as she makes her way
She calls to me to wander too
And I oblige
And slip into her day
We sing off key
Completely unselfconsciously
And kick the stones before our toes
Propelling them
Surprised
While we float upward
Lost in skies
Where nothing presses us
The rapid runners paddle by
Insouciance is our stride
We drift the outer current
Where all the world is wide




Saea Mathews     March 2016

I see you tucked away
The rust and red of you
Play hide and peek
Between the spin of last year’s leaf
A pale and brittle memory
Of verdant finery
It seems the perfect place to nest
Within the thorn and vine
Of tangled hopes
And dormant hues
The vivid blues of clematis
And blushing rose
And bittersweet to shelter you
From wind and weather foes
I pray to feathered deities
To bless
And fill your home
With babies strong
And songs of spring
And cardinal success




Sara Mathews     March 2016

I awoke to grey
Like a winter shawl
Thrown over Spring
And I stared out my window
And worried
As grey can make me do
But as I looked
It all became so clear
That it was more
A silver cloak
Subdued
And letting
All the Springness
With softest palette
Come through
The slightest hints
Of tender green
Became
A vibrant hue
And tiny little teardrops
That laced along the
Branches of the rose
Dazzled me
With their solemnity
And I bid each one
Good Day




Sara Mathews     March 2016

Sadness writes poetry
Until it doesn’t
Until the tears become
The ink that will not flow
And words have dried upon the line
Of losing you
There is no lyric
No clever rhyme
Sadness writes sadness
And fingers tap
At emptiness
The fog has settled in
A heaviness has perched
Upon the page
And sadness slips into the pen
And grasps
At nothingness




Sara Mathews     March 2016

Wilhelm Simmler

                                                         


I’m on a tightrope
Can’t you see
It’s tricky to maintain
The balance is an act
In fact
I pray no little breeze
Or sneeze
I’m up here in the thin of it
The storm clouds reign below
I’m good at this
I’ve got it down
Don’t try to talk me through
No messing with the tension
Please
The only thing I ask
Of you



Sara Mathews     March 2016

                                                            Willard Leroy Metcalf


Ode to March
By: Paul Gordon Mathews


Now is the new year come, not on that day
cold weeks gone by - when life was wrapped in snow
but now - in March - I know it by the way
the pasture brook runs wild - the way that rows
of winter blackened maples show the sweat
of spring on greening limbs.  Stand still and feel
the air's crisp edges folding back - to let
the softness through!  This is the only real
beginning, winter's calendar is torn
The moment when to earth a year is born!