Sarah Sadie

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A Few Notes from the Year

January

this field, all
white and quiet –

a dusting snow,
bakers’ scant, sifting

in frugal air –
my lush muse on a diet

March

all night – and half each day –

whuffled, husk sound: small talk
and intimacies and one
on our roof –

the house turns tree, turns owl:
all resonant body, hollow

April

my head a funeral these past few years
now the breeze brings you and rain
I want to grow again

October

Not your harbor to home to
and no way safe
these hips
never sent anyone to sleep

A full moon
swells the hurricane.

Sarah Sadie is a balancing act and a damn good one. Co-editor of Verse Wisconsin, she blogs about theology and poetry at patheos.com. Her poetry has received the Council for Wisconsin Writers’ Niedecker and Posner Prizes, and a Pushcart Prize. She teaches at the Loft (online) and the Iowa Summer Writing Festival.