Grey hope
Lopes down the street
Gathering tears from
Newborn green
Blurring eyes
Horizon lines
Grey hope
Admires his misty cloak
Thrown over scarlet bud
And smudges morning birds
On wire
Soft pedaling their song
The muffled joy
Is what he loves
The tulip jeweled




Sara Mathews    March 2018

                                                                  Peder Balke


Sometimes I wake to the sound of the sea
The rhythm of the waves
Rolling time away
A year
A day
It pulls a pulse
A steady beat to match my heart
I know the words the seagulls cry
The keening
Weaving
Wheeling high
Their haunting song much more
They chant
Much more
I hear each grain of grief roll down
A love lost strand
I feel the past
Beneath my feet sharp memories bleed
To glitter in the sand 
I sift the darkened stretch of offered prayers
I grasp the fading night to know my fate
My single tear
Undoes the tide
When I was young
A smuggler rowed a golden light
And like a widow I must bide
Sometimes I wake to the sound of the sea
A year
A day
I wait

Sara Mathews     March 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