It’s not a summer sky
The blue is bluer
In October
It swallows me in
Jewel sea
And clouds are not a summer cloud
Their bergs are brighter
And sculptured in the purest
Snowy white
And flame of maple
Scarlett bough
And oaken gold
Spin round
And dizzy me with flair
My breath is not a summer breath
But truer
Sapphire
Ruby
Amber
Ice
And me
In all my elements
Fire
Water
Air




Sara Mathews     November 2015

What winds have brought you
Cold and swift
To gather all the remnant leaves
That clung for one last lilt of breeze
To twist and turn and catch the light
In amber gold
And fiery coal
Like trumpet’s blare
You blast the trees
And bare the last
Of branch and bough
And off you go with spinning leaves
Like conquered memories in tow



Sara Mathews     November 2015

I wonder who named you

Toad

It doesn’t seem fitting

It doesn’t do you justice

It leaves out

Your calm demeanor

You hop with dignity

And serene disposition

You’re not all hyper like a frog

Or slippery

It fails to describe

Your companionable ways

We sit together on the step

To watch the darkness settle in

And ponder life

I wonder at your name

You wonder

Why I talk to Toads…

But you seem to like my company

And our evening reverie

Sara Mathews     November 2015

Photo by Ingrid Mathews

You wrote it in the sand

The winter shoreline held our gaze

As hours slipped into the sea

There wasn’t  more

That one could need

A simple seat

A warm embrace

The ocean wave to meditate

And rocks that strolled into the surf

Made you say

This is where I’m meant to be today

And islands floated near and

Ebbed away in different shapes of

Where our future lay

A lighthouse wakened on our watch

As gulls wheeled by

And tide was drawn to our content

And sidled up to be with us

Affirming our departing scripture 

In the sand

~We are enough~

Sara Mathews     November 2015

A mermaid cries upon the glass
Like raindrops on the sea
She holds her head in desperate hands
And mirrors back to me
A saddest tale
In mist and fog
On rocky ledge of day
She sits within the frame of thought
And weeps the world away



Sara Mathews    November 2015

I almost didn’t walk
The night was damp and raw
That pressing dark that
Holds you to your house
Like stepping in would be a chance
At first I was Pinocchio
And swallowed in the whale
But then the slightest gleam of wet
And silvery way emerged beneath my
Feet and I was drawn into the soft
Vignette of streetlamp meeting rain
I was alone in name alone
And night became my aura like a frame
And painted me in watery tones into
A swirled Van Gogh
Or shimmering Monet


Sara Mathews       November 2015

Ah, to be left to my own devices
What luxury is this
As dust lays languid
Undisturbed
And dishes pile
In unwashed bliss
The doorbell rings
To no avail
The laundry loves it’s heap
And I am squirreled within my den
My thoughts unkempt
Are mine to keep


Sara Mathews    November 2015