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, March 28, 2026

Deep Indigo


Deep Indigo

A beach walk
at low tide 
in early spring. 
Though the air is chilly
and winds do blow,
I don’t fight the urge
to be barefoot 
on sand and swash.
            An incoming tide
                        and rhythmic surf
                    stir my core
        in ways both 
                        lively and settling.
Later, I climb a rocky headland,
stand firm on layered granite,
sand and salt between my toes still.
I gaze back to where I have been,
behold splendor once again.
This time 
deep indigo waters
shimmer in sunlight.
In these moments there is no gloom,
nothing need crawl away.
I hesitate to leave
such a glorious scene.
Just then, something softly 
washes through me.
I hear myself declare
with gentle gusto -
This… is all within me,
I… am within all this!!
A clear, sparkling energy swirls
with mingling tides of
 child, mother, grandmother
deep in the 
wholesome, 
expressive
 nature
 of me.

Sarah Carlson
March 27, 2026

Wednesday, March 25, 2026

Just a Shadow


 Just a Shadow

Clouds shroud the peak
of the mountain.
Trees stand strong,
though covered with rime
from freezing drizzle
just a day ago.
A breathy wind stirs,
bits of blue peek through,
trees become aglow.
I lull,
breathe with the wind,
shift with the clouds,
scan the valley below.
A stark shadow
creeps just below a ridge line,
dismal against the white.
A deep, heavy dark
that seems to obscure
 such brilliant beauty.
But, it’s just a shadow.
 Dynamic clouds
disperse under the warmth
of everlasting Light.
The truth is in
 the splendor.
                The gloom 
                                crawls 
                                        slowly
                                                    away.

Sarah Carlson
March 24, 2026


Monday, March 16, 2026

Yet Again

 

Yet Again

There by the ocean I pause.
Sea birds glide gently,
dip their heads every so often
to scan for fish below.
A tree branch appears to 
cradle clouds that drift 
with barely perceptible flow.
Snow melts under the warmth 
of a mid-March sun.
This place is familiar
and so I reflect,
remember times
of ponder and wonder
as I walked, widened,
 sat by the shore
on rocks that
have their own
slow history
of change.
There’s a stale tension 
within me,
tendrils of my past
I thought had fully uncoiled.
Later,
I listen, feel, speak,
cry
in the company of others,
though long ago I was taught 
to be still. 
The space is full of
acceptance and Love,
no judgment or disdain.
There is no wrong here. 
I feel a slow shift,
a loosening in my chest,
a quivering awareness
 that the inflicted hush of my infancy
was stifling,
never should have been.
Grateful for 
earth, ocean, sky, sun,
 like-minded beings,
and the vibrance, capacity, truth 
of my very essence -
I reveal, reclaim, and reorient
yet again.

Sarah Carlson
March 16, 2026

Saturday, February 28, 2026

As It Is


As It Is

How I love looking to the sky,
especially as a backdrop
to the intricacies of tree branches
in winter. 
Edges of daylight,
starry nights,
flowing cloudscapes.
Ever-changing visions to behold.
Along with looking up and out
I’ve discovered the power
of diving into the depths of me.
I felt a pull to ‘go there’
as a way to navigate grief. 
And, I’m so glad 
to have had the patience 
to do so.
I deepen my breath,
let my attention slide,
feel my body loosen.
I am fluid - 
free, pure,
full of vigor and peace.
Resilient treasures reveal.
A recent, surprising,
 welcome gift
is a sort of supple sadness
that gently honors
the truth of my travels
 and opens the way 
to the fullness of me.
No judgment, fear,
or need to hide.
Like moonbeams shining
through the dark of night,
or shadows and snow cover
mingling on a frozen lake,
it simply is as it is
and all is well
within.
Sarah Carlson
February 27, 2026

 

Wednesday, January 7, 2026

To Do So, Still


 To Do So, Still

How grounded it was
 from our very beginnings.
New layers emerged
as our babies arrived 
and we two
became four.
Such inspiring and challenging
years those were -
nurturing, marveling,
 processing together
as they grew
and we did, too.
On the day you died,
even before I knew,
I felt something rush to me,
over me, 
through me
as I turned into the 
hospital drive -
like an ocean wave
rolling onto a beach,
 saturating every grain of sand
and all the space between.
Somewhere within
I sensed it was you, 
your love.
I have felt it in the years since,
though heartache and doubt
sometimes interrupt the flow.
Now, though, 
I am learning 
to honor its continuity,
trust the truth of
 its tides,
allow it to reflect, refresh, 
and clear the way anew.
How fortunate we were
to experience such profound love
 with each other and our children.
How blessed I am to do so, still.
I can look up and out,
down and in,
anywhere at all.
And there it is…
the soft, reassuring glow 
of the infinite Love
we share.
Sarah Carlson
January 7, 2026