These posts are visible with my most recent writing at the top, but the story starts with the first post. The poems have been added more or less as they surfaced and evolved through the process. Thank you for taking some time to explore with me. For more information and/or to schedule a reading contact me at meanderingspublications@gmail.com"> Bio page for Find Maine Writers:




Saturday, February 24, 2024

Once Again


 Once Again

I’ve been so used to observing closely
that I sometimes forget to look wide,
especially when I’m uneasy.
I get better and better, though,
 at remembering,
especially outside.
I can pause upon a rocky ledge,
scan, and breathe -
all the way to my toes and into the earth,
all the way out to the tops of the trees and beyond.
Moments of connection and expansion,
deep and real and true.
I feel the solidity
of the layered mountains
in the distance,
recognize their history of change.
I notice how part of the lake below
riffles in the winter wind,
while quiet ice blankets the rest.
I contemplate shades of gray
as they shift in flowy clouds
just as the sun peeks through,
illuminates and widens.
And, there it is,
 there you are,
there I am.
In those moments,
and more often in the everyday,
I can anchor deeply as I expand,
honor my wholeness as I mend,
feel the potency of Love
once again.

Sarah Carlson
February 24, 2024


Sunday, February 4, 2024

You, Me, Love


Footprint, pawprint, heartprint - Barker Brook, 2/3/24

 You, Me, Love

 I’m drawn to the little beach
where we caught crayfish,
skipped rocks,
taught the kids
 the art of throwing bubblers.
I turn my face to the mid-winter sun,
close my eyes,
listen to the quiet, shimmering flow -
both of the brook and of me.
 I stretch freely
from ground to sky
and beyond in all directions.
My breath expands,
 blends with the trees
and the breeze,
just as they join me.
I feel you, me, Love.
Both the joy of the whole-hearted
way we lived together
and the sadness
 of how broken-hearted
I felt when you died
are palpable.
A deepening departure
of judgment,
            wrongness,
                            any pull to be
            other than I am.
A freedom to tell, ask, feel,
grieve, laugh, cry, be…
The comfort of feeling at home in me.

Though I have known these before,
I lost sight a bit
enduring the pandemic.
As if social distancing
became a sort of soul distancing
that tapped a deep, tender place
of feeling scared and alone in the dark,
trying hard to understand.
Though healing and growth continued
and Light has been present,
there was a void.
Thank you for reaching through,
in ways powerful, subtle, and true.
As I fathom the fullness of me,
 I am ever grateful
for you, me, Love.

Sarah Carlson
February 4, 2024

Friday, February 2, 2024

To Love


 To Love

The morning starts
 with a quick cuddle
and the excitement 
of getting ready
for adventure.
As always,
there’s such joy
in learning, growing,
and being together.
Later,
he holds his special light
as we softly sing
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
Before long his eyes get heavy
and he ever-so-gently
 drifts off to sleep.
My body slowly relaxes, too,
as light, love,
and gratitude for
such tender moments
spread throughout my being.
What a sweet reminder
of how delightful it is
to love,
and be loved.

Sarah Carlson
February 2, 2024

Thursday, February 1, 2024

By Your Side


 Sun shadow arc that appeared just as the sun was breaking through the clouds behind me - top of Narrow Gauge Extension at Sugarloaf Mountain, Maine. Partnered with remembering and reconnecting.

By Your Side

I’m here, Sarah,
though I’ve been gone long.
I’m so glad that you continue
 to more deeply discover
the truth of you.
Through the fog,
when things unfreeze,
and as you bask
in soothing moments
of awe
you can anchor
 to the constancy
of our Love
whenever you desire.
Their anger and dysfunction
are not yours,
 never were.
They are not you,
you are not them.
You are you.
Remember -
your soft strength,
caring heart,
sweet soul
have also been constant
through it all.
 Wherever you go,
whatever you choose,
and as you continue
to heal
I’m right here,
 by your side,
 always.

Sarah Carlson
February 1, 2024

 



Wednesday, January 24, 2024

Intermingle


 Intermingle

Gentle soul, He.
How grateful I remain
for the energy
of the love
 we share.
A constant, for sure,
                                    though I drifted a bit,
                                                became encumbered
                        by challenges
                                         that stir disquiet
moored to darkness not mine.
So, he found ways
                to remind,
                             rejuvenate,
                rekindle.
Star showers and snow hearts,
eagles on the wing.
Dream visits and wind whispers,
powerful golden light
that illumines
familiar hills, valleys,
robust places
 within.
So much intermingles
as I allow and honor,
root and rise,
patiently embrace
 this gentle soul, Me.

Sarah Carlson
January 24, 2024



Sunday, December 31, 2023

A Soft Reminder


A Soft Reminder

Christmas has come and gone,
and another year is waning.
As always, I think of you
with a gentle longing
that I have befriended
over the years.
The warmth and gentleness
of our love is here, too.
There is much on my mind,
but I think this year
I’m going to sit with the beauty
of this soft reminder
that filled my being
as I crossed a small brook
on a winter hike
 with friends today.
There, right there -
a perfect heart
waiting to be seen.
I saw it, I feel you,
I love you, too.

© Sarah Carlson
December 31, 2023

Stalled... and in Motion


 Stalled… and in Motion

My mind wanders
as I walk along a snowy trail
 that’s new to me.
I realize I’m searching
to find words to describe
what’s going on within.
I don’t ever remember feeling
quite this way before -
sort of disoriented, but in a good way.
Drifty,  though my vessel is secure.
Stalled, and clearly in motion.
An image of water-skiing
drops gently into my mind.
Those lovely moments of suspension
just after a wide turn as you wait
for the pull of the boat
to catch up to you.
You know the energy is there,
so you delight in the pause.
“Yeah, that’s it… kind of,” I think.
Later, we stop to marvel
 at a glacial erratic that borders the trail.
I gaze upward,
enjoy the silhouettes of tiny ferns
against a blue sky
with wispy clouds dashing by.
Further aloft I spy an eagle.
He turns into the wind,
flaps his huge wings to adjust
and then hangs motionless.
He does this several more times
and then…
he does a 180 and
zooms away with the wind,
wings open wide for the ride.
I take a deep breath,
grateful for nature speak
once again.

© Sarah Carlson
December 14 - 31, 2023

Saturday, December 30, 2023

Do You Hear It, Mama?

Photo by Emma Carlson


 Do You Hear it, Mama?

A family outing on Christmas Day,
three generations strong.
We walk to Madison Boulder,
play in the babbling brook
that flows nearby.
As we head back
 three-year old Otto
 grabs his mother’s hand,
then stops and asks,
“Do you hear that water flowing, Mama?”
Thinking we had left the brook behind,
we’re surprised
at what appears to be
a mini waterfall deep in the trees.
We weave through soggy woods
to be greeted by water sparkling
 in the mid-day sun
as it aerates during its plunge,
 bubbles when it rejoins the brook
in a raucous rush.
Icy edge waters dangle and glisten
in silent suspension,
ice platelets hang
on tiny branches
with beautiful patterns
 all their own.
Rich unplanned moments, these,
 provided by
 an adventurous boy
who feels free to ask,
and loving adults
who know to listen.

© Sarah Carlson
December 30, 2023


Thursday, December 21, 2023

Ever Expanding Light


 Ever Expanding Light

Here in Maine
we had a lovely winter storm
that overlaid our world
for many days.
A true winter wonderland,
uplifting and beautiful.
Just over two weeks later,
a storm of a very different nature
hit hard.
Torrential rains, crazed winds,
raging rivers,
flooding and destruction.
All this with winter not even here,
until today.
Bare trees sway in a chilly breeze,
still waters freeze,
humans connect
and work to recover.
An icy patch near my home
catches my eye
as I walk and wonder.
I stand for a bit in awe once again
at what nature holds, if only we look.
Bent branches,
air pockets,
angles, openings,
waters both clear and rippled.
So much there
that wouldn’t be
without Light.
Perhaps that’s why
this day contains
 warmth through the chill,
insight from reflections,
promise in the dark.
It’s a day that,
through it all,  
we can recognize
the hope of ever expanding Light.

© Sarah Carlson
December 21, 2023


Monday, December 4, 2023

Oh, These Trees


 
Oh, These Trees

I walk by the river,
as I have so often over the years.
Though the water surely flows,
all is quiet under a soft gray sky.
Snowflakes of an approaching storm
begin to gently fall.
As often happens along this trail,
clarity seeps its way in
without my asking.
I gaze across the river
and smile at a familiar,
though ever-changing, sight.
Oh, these trees
and how they reflect,
help me do the very same.
Memories of shared and solo
snowshoe, ski, and paddling adventures.
Sunsets, moon shadows,
ice formations, geese visitors,
eagles on the wing.
I slide in deeper and recognize
there are some facets,
though universal,
that are unique to me,
my inner landscape.
 The love, the missing, the loneliness.
The courage, the pain, the despair.
The hope, the comfort, the healing.
I embody the truth of it all.
My truth.
And then…a knowing
 that if and when I branch out anew,
I will carry with me all that has come through
in the soothing company
 of this river and these trees.


Sarah Carlson
December 4, 2023



Friday, November 17, 2023

In the Barn


 In the Barn

It’s been leaning for a while,
has needed to come down.
I haven’t really even been out there much
since he died.
Lately, though, it’s been calling to me,
wanting attention as I work toward
leaving this home we all shared together.
So, I gather my courage and take a look.
Emotions stir as I see
a jumble of old bikes and skis,
a favorite hat now housing a bird’s nest,
the remains of the yellow Dancer he so loved -
 our kayak beginnings.
Here and there I spot
random Carlson family memorabilia,
brought home when he and his twin brother
helped Nana move after Grandpa died.
I peek into the upstairs loft
once a sort of neighborhood hangout
complete with a crazy zipline
built by you-know-who,
now a resting place for who-knows-what.
 Back downstairs …way in the back…
 my gaze rests upon the old Glenwood.
Together we moved that woodstove
from a cabin in the woods
to our first house,
 then another,
and eventually here.
Though it has not held a fire in years,
 the warmth of our bond
kindles deep within
as tender tears surface.
All the way back I go,
to falling in love in the ’59 Rambler
listening to Neil Diamond’s Hot August Night
on the 8-track player.
There, I distinctly feel
a welcome blend
of my growth and healing
and his unwavering
love and support.
I had to go there,
a place I had been avoiding,
to once again feel things anew.
I am so very grateful
for what comes to light… in the barn.

Sarah Carlson
November 17, 2023

Friday, October 27, 2023

The Fog of Mourning


 The Fog of Mourning
with love to my home state of Maine

We know what we know.
People were slain.
People were injured.
People experienced terror.
We are hurting.
We wait and wonder.

I had a sudden rush
 of tangled emotions this morning
after I read about the tender beings
who were killed in Lewiston.
I feel such empathy for them,
for their families,
for those who shared in their lives.
And then it went deeper as the words,
“there one minute, gone the next”
meandered through my mind.
Though it has been years,
and my husband died peacefully,
I can relate to a normal day
that ends with sudden,
catastrophic loss.
At first I felt guilty.
What right do I have to cry
 about my own loss
in the midst of this horrible crisis?
I knew to step outside,
take a breath,
be with the trees
and the morning mist.
Slowly it dawned
that we are together
in the fog of mourning
right now,
each in our own way.
How it dissipates
will ebb and flow and vary.
May we all
find spaces and places
to honor our feelings,
experience support,
share love and compassion
so the density of this fog
can lighten
as time goes by.

Sarah Carlson
October 27, 2023


Monday, October 2, 2023

Wide Open Love

Wide Open Love

I love this photo
of our tenderhearted grandson
at the same beach
where I danced in wild waves
during a recent storm.
I came across it just after
a sweet, distant memory of his Opa
found its way into my mind, my heart.

I am driving by the fairgrounds
and, boom… it comes with a rush…
1979
We are newlyweds,
 in our brand new truck,
on our way
to our new home in Rangeley.
New, new, new…
We decide to stop at the Farmington Fair
to meet up with a friend.
44 years later,
I feel as if I’m in the truck,
his arm around my shoulder,
as he searches for a place to park.
Sensations of love, togetherness,
excitement, promise
of that day, those moments,
spread throughout my being.
 They gently pair with the truth
of so many lonely times since he died
that still come every so often,
especially in this town.
I cry peaceful tears for me, for him, for us.
I feel real and right and valid.

I look again at this photo,
 ponder the many aspects
 of newness in my life now.
I marvel at Otto’s easy presence,
 spunky innocence,
wide open love.
I feel so incredibly grateful
to be his Oma,
have the opportunity to
share both lively adventures
 and quiet connection with him
as I carry his Opa
 softly in my heart.

Sarah Carlson
October 2, 2023

In the Awe of it All

Turns out swimming in the wind can be both humbling and empowering. Still processing this amazing experience in/at Silver Lake, New Hampshire.

In the Awe of it All

After a rollicking swim
I am content
to watch and wait
with wonder.
Evening sun sinks behind
an undulating horizon
as wind-whipped waves
continue to break
 upon saturated sand.
Red, orange, yellow hues
shimmer and gleam
 in the clouds,
water, shoreline.
As day gives way to night
and storm clouds
slowly slip away,
my breath and being
settle anew.
I am but one human
alone on a beach.
In those moments
I feel happy, full,
safe
to be immersed
in the awe of it all.

Sarah Carlson
October 1, 2023

Saturday, September 23, 2023

Wave Upon Wave Upon Wave


Silver Lake, New Hampshire - September 16, 2023

Wave Upon Wave Upon Wave
 

We’re on the fringe of a tropical storm
so I head to the beach
to experience the wind.
Dazzled by the intricate
rhythm of the whitecaps,
I decide that a swim is in order.
I am alone
so I know to take care,
that I have the ability
to do that for me.
I go in just far enough
to be fully afloat.
It takes some time
to adjust to the varied angles
and steepness of the waves.
As I do I feel my
    body enliven,
         energy flow,
                vitality soar.
Eventually it becomes
     a comfortably
                wild dance
                of sky,
                                mountains,
                water,
    and me.
I simply know
                                 when to exert
               or relax
      or adjust.
Wave
upon wave
upon wave.
Rise, settle, scan.
Surge, giggle, smile.
Breathe, notice, allow.
Later, I sit on the beach
as the sun sets
and the winds freshen even more.
My essence pleasantly abuzz,
    I feel
                    calm,
                                    present,
                         grateful,
                safe,
         and free.

    Sarah Carlson
September 23, 2023


Friday, September 15, 2023

Misty Freedom


 Misty Freedom

In moments least expected,
all can be clear and calm.
 Light turns on the darkness.
You are able to close a door
and walk away
with sureness and grace.
Left behind…
a sort of grim energy that was
 flittery and jittery,
lurky and murky,
old and cold.
This opens the way
to acknowledge an
embedded anxiety
that you learned to carry,
push through,
work with,
often turn to good.
Though you mostly understand
 its roots,
you wonder how it could possibly
have had such a grip
of doubt and fear and threat.
Why did you tolerate it?
What could you have done differently?
Should you be angry at those
largely responsible?
Then you begin to notice times
when that tangled anxiety
is absent.
In that absence
you feel presence, stillness, flow.
You settle into your foundation,
sigh into a misty freedom
from the gloom that obscured,
let go of working so hard
 to understand,
and tenderly forgive.

Sarah Carlson
September 14, 2023

Thursday, August 24, 2023

It's You, It's YOU!!


 It’s You, It’s YOU!!

I call his name just as I arrive.
He turns, brightens,
runs up the hill
from our campsite.
Every so often he throws in
 a little dance,
repeats over and over,
“Oma! It’s you, it’s you!!”
The energy of his joy
envelops me as I pick him up
for a quick hug,
my heart all aflutter.
Later,
as Mama and Dada
are off to pick up food
and supplies,
we share some tent time
and then decide to build a fire,
just because.
Together we fan the flames,
stoke it a bit,
simply sit and watch.
The wind picks up
as he climbs onto my lap,
clearly in need of some cuddle time.
I wrap him in his adventure blanket
(a.k.a Blanky)
and quietly sing our song.
He slides gently into sleep
just as rain begins to fall.
The soothing sounds of distant whitewater
 and raindrops on the tarp,
the sweetness of his trust and love,
the soft, dual movement
of the eddy as it flows
past our little beach
 produce a stirring of my soul
that is deep and primal and needed.
The shifting currents of healing,
though powerful and true,
can at times be disorienting.
In these moments
along the Penobscot,
and at intervals ever since,
I separate from disquiet,
anchor more securely
to the ‘you’ that he sees,
grateful that it’s me.

Sarah Carlson
August 23, 2023

Monday, August 14, 2023

Now, As I Am


 Now, As I Am 

Winds of change
billow and swirl yet again.
I know to welcome them,
let stormy waters disperse,
allow for newness.
But, I’m uneasy
so I head out on my trusty bicycle
to find my rhythm
 and hope to settle a bit.
Lines of past poems
float through my mind
as I pedal,
especially those that explore
 grief, loneliness, self-doubt.
I have a rekindled recognition
 of all that has come,
        flowed through,
                evolved.
As the miles pass,
I feel a deepening
into my own self,
a gentle expansion
into places I know well,
along with those
 that are pristine,
yet somehow familiar.
I smile with delight at
the comfort of my confines.
Slowly a belief begins to dawn
that, in time, I will find a place,
and maybe some new people,
to fit me now, as I am.
I look both wide and deep
and must remember
to honor the storms,
the Light that reveals,
the beauty
 of that
which reflects.

Sarah Carlson
August 7-14, 2023

Sunday, July 30, 2023

I don't want to live here anymore


 I don’t want to live here anymore.

I had to write those words
 and sit with them for a bit.
This house holds so much
after 38 years of living, loving,
learning, grieving.
Having come on slowly over time,
 there’s more of a rush to it now.
As it becomes more and more clear,
tears burst forth at random.
Rainbow tears, these.
They scour and cleanse,
bring forth memories
of  many joys,
 some deep sorrows, too.
I’m a bit afraid
of whether or not I can
find a new place
where I feel like I belong.
But, I somehow
survived the sudden shock
of becoming a widow
and all that entails.
So, here I am
writing these words,
letting tears flow,
hoping I can access the courage
to take the plunge.
I need newness
and some community -
space to build on a foundation
of health and wholeness
that I’ve worked so very hard
to unearth.
I will take the bubble of love
that I felt with Barry,
carry it with me
as I flow into the unknown.
I just don’t want to live here anymore.

Sarah Carlson
July 30, 2023

Thursday, July 27, 2023

Just Run With It

Photo by Emma Carlson


 Just Run With It

So much growth and change
all the year through,
with shared adventures
on board.
Once again we stand
hand in hand
as briny surf and soft sand
churn and whirl about our feet.
Last year’s fear
is but a memory
and he lets go,
frolics gleefully
with strength and sureness,
quite literally
goes with the flow.
Just two and a half
and he listens,
        learns,
            trusts,
        reminds
that there are times
when one can
drop in,
feel the freedom
to just run with it,
welcome each moment
with wild and gentle abandon.
Sarah Carlson
July 27, 2023

Tuesday, July 11, 2023

Alone on a Beach


 Alone on a Beach

The tide shifts,
 waters reach ever higher,
sand swirls and settles anew.
My cadence slows
in the softness of the fog
and soothing ocean rhythms.
I pause to look both ways.
Not another human being in sight,
though I know others are walking, too.
For just a few minutes
I am
totally alone
 on this lovely beach.
I turn to the ocean,
watch waves crest and roll,
feel a sense of rebalancing.
How amazing it is that
        the wide horizon
                            and warm sunshine
                                    are out there,
            though not always in view.
Even in times when we feel
                    cut off
                or closed in
            or alone
                there is always
light
        and hope
                    and potential,
        if only we continue
to remember
the gentle goodness
of trusting in Love.

       Sarah Carlson
July 11, 2023


Thursday, June 29, 2023

A Friend in Me

Evening View from Campsite 44 - Cobscook Bay State Park, ME

 

This piece came over the past few days. It was easy and difficult to write, has unfolded as the day Barry and I were married approached. 

I smile with memories of our garden wedding 44 years ago, the years we shared together as a family, and the joy I access in my life now. I hold gently the residual ache of missing him these 21 years. 

A Friend in Me

Thoughtful eyes
that absorb, fathom, reflect.
Benevolent arms
that anchor, carry, embrace.
Kindred souls
that bond, fortify, balance.
This,
an attempt to capture
what we had,
what I miss.
This,
my way to ponder,
learn, heal, grow.
I know the Love we shared endures.
I see it in and around
waters, landscape, sky.
I sense it within my confines
and ever wider.
I honor it as tides shift
and I relax in my distinctive flow.
It’s the absence of day-to-day friendship
that dampens me now.
The tender touch
of hands held
as we took an evening stroll.
The shared joy
 of watching our amazing
children grow.
The quiet listening
 when things were hard
or confusing or hurtful.
These past few years
have contained much
that challenged.
It would have been easier,
so much less lonely,
had you been by my side.
I feel left
 with a lack of camaraderie,
baffled as to why
those who were close
have faded away.
I think it healthy now
to let the wondering wane,
take comfort in
the open-hearted,
beautiful friend
you found in me.

Sarah Carlson
June 27-29, 2023


Sunday, June 25, 2023

Reach and Stretch and Strive


Reach and Stretch and Strive

You climb much higher
than I think you can go.
I stand close,
as grandmothers do,
though I know to let you
reach and stretch and strive.
You give your all
in everything you do,
while feeling free
to ask for a hand
or a lift
or a cuddle
when you have a need.
Like when mosquitos swarm
on a biking trail,
just after the fun
of chasing dragonflies
across a wooden bridge.
“Carry me, Oma!”
you say with
sweet conviction.
And, somehow,
I summon strength
I didn’t know I had
until right there,
right then.
I hang your bike on mine,
carry you first on one side,
then the other
and onward we go.
Being with you
is so incredibly inspirational
as we reach and stretch and strive
together.

    Sarah Carlson (Oma)
June 25, 2023


Friday, June 9, 2023

Robust Intricacy


 Robust Intricacy

I look to my garden,
  notice the deep purple
of the first bloom
in a patch of Irises
that hold complex memories
for me.
I pause and breathe,
roll back my shoulders,
stretch into the day.
In good time,
I bend to look
closely
at the robust intricacy
of this hearty blossom,
even with some parts of it
yet to unfurl.
My attention
                    widens
                            a bit
 and I see it surrounded
 by others
not yet open.
I feel warm
and comfortable
within,
paired with a loving
sense of faith.
I smile
with an awareness
that right here,
right now,
that’s really
                  all
                            I need.

Sarah Carlson
June 9, 2023

Monday, May 29, 2023

Tangible Reminders

Photo by Emma Carlson

 Tangible Reminders

Today our grandson
had his tiny hand on his heart
as the flag went by
in a Memorial Day parade.
We all did -
Mama, Oma, Grandma
and Otto.
Grandma told stories
about how Grandpa Al
had such pride and honor
for our flag,
and how Dada does, too.
I shared memories
of  Barry (now Opa),
showing respect
with his hand on his heart
so many times
over the years.
A day of
remembering
and missing
for both sides
of a little boy’s family.
His interest in
 stories and memories,
his wit and adventurous nature,
tangible reminders
that both grandfathers
truly do live on
in him.

Sarah Carlson
Memorial Day
May 29, 2023


The Intangible


 The Intangible

I’ve been cleaning out
this home,
deciding what
to keep in my now.
Many things are easy to let go
and I happily pass them on.
The champagne glasses
from our wedding
puzzle me at first.
I don’t seem to want them,
but why?
After a toast
with family and friends,
you surreptitiously kept
these very glasses
that I now contemplate.
I take them outside,
sit on the deck,
allow wondering
to ebb and flow.
Awakening trees
reflect and refract
in their glass
as they nestle and sparkle
in the springtime sun.
A symphony of birdsong
settles my being
as understanding slowly unfurls.
It’s the intangible
 that so often provides
deep comfort.
Just when I least expect it
I see, feel, hear what it is
that these glasses actually hold.
I am reminded that
you are everywhere,
including right here -
wherever it is
that I am.

Sarah Carlson
May 29, 2023

Friday, May 19, 2023

Apple Blossoms and Snowflakes


 Apple Blossoms and Snowflakes

There are times in life
when it’s hard to make sense
of what is right in front of you.
For me, this happens when
what I thought I knew
is not entirely true
and things just feel askew.
Often this intrigues me
and I look within it all
for hope and newness.
Other times it makes
my body ache and
my soul weep
as my mind
strives to understand.
Eventually, though,
I can settle
into sweet support
and deeper awareness of ME.
I think of my two-year-old grandson,
who said upon waking early one morning
during a winter sleepover,
“What’s going on in here?
It’s time to turn the lights on!”
Such good advice…
And, so I do.
Turn the lights on, that is.
Allow illumination to find
what I need,
and let the rest be
as best I am able.
Like a spring evening
when apple blossoms
and snowflakes
share the same space
in one’s front yard,
or looking to the horizon
when fields are greening
and some mountains are still white.
Things that seem discordant
can actually peacefully
and beautifully coexist.
Thanks, Otto,
for once again
pointing out that
which is true.

Sarah Carlson
May 19, 2023


Monday, May 15, 2023

Be Two, Be True

Photo by Emma Carlson

Be Two, Be True

We sit by a lake,
feel the wind in our hair,
watch whitecaps
dance in the distance.
We listen to birdsong,
enjoy Grandma’s flowers,
see pictures in the clouds
with Mama -
as we once did
with my father.
We listen to a song
that Dada sang
opening oatmeal,
have a belly laugh
all together.
We explore and wonder,
ask and answer,
feel big feels,
whatever they may be.
We cuddle on the couch
with ‘our’ book
finding all the
pictures and poems
about our earliest
moments together.
He slowly leans back,
gently holds my face,
nestles his to mine.
I breathe deeply,
immerse in these pure
moments of shared love.
Once again I marvel
at the simple elegance
of his essence,
and the wonder
of being two,
being so
                    fully
                                true.

Sarah Carlson (Oma)
May 15, 2023

Friday, April 21, 2023

The Deep Simplicity of Joy


 The Deep Simplicity of Joy

How fortunate I am
to be in a time and place
where I can open my eyes
to a smiley toddler
as a new day begins.
What shall we do?
Bike to the bottom
of the driveway and back?
Go to the library
for Story Time?
Head to the beach?
Oh, wait… it’s only April
and it’s raining.
Hmmm, that doesn’t matter…
Let’s go - we can do it all!
And so we do.
By beach time
it’s a gentle rain,
and only a little bit cold,
so we settle in to play by the shore.
I am mesmerized by
how he takes such care
in filling his bucket with sand
and dumping it into
the small pond we built.
Over and over and over again.
He fills, pours,
watches, and smiles.
I, too -
fill, pour, watch, and smile
at the deep simplicity
of the joy
this delightful boy
takes in
and gives out
each and every day.

Sarah Carlson
April 21, 2023

Wednesday, April 12, 2023

Truth in the Blues


 Truth in the Blues

I walk on a windswept beach,
enjoy the teasing warmth
of an early April sun.
Having spent much time
in the mountains of late,
I am captivated by
a scene that appears, at first
to be acutely linear
with very distinct layers.
I stand
    and breathe
        and notice.
Sand swirls around my feet
and shifts on the shoreline
with the outgoing tide.
The waters near me
        riffle gently,
            flicker with
                 intermingling hues.
 My eye is drawn
                                                  to the wide horizon.
Such a deep blue
where the sea
meets the lightness
of the sky.
These contrasting tones
enliven tides
within the truth of me,
especially the richness
in the bounds of my blues.
How amazing it has been
to explore
my fathoms,
discover a trove
of  comfort, love,
 wholeness, sanctity
within
the lively textures
of grief.

Sarah Carlson
April 12, 2023