Author Archives
I am a writer and naturalist who lives in a little log cabin by a brook with my two dogs and a ring necked dove named Lily B. I write a naturalist column for a local paper and also publish essays, poems and prose in a number of other publications.
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Ant Hill by Sara Wright
Yesterday I gave a poetry reading at a local library beginning and ending with thoughts about how Climate Change is affecting all living things. I am a naturalist who holds the radical belief that all living things are sentient. I… Read More ›
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A Place Below the Cattails by Sara Wright
As a woman with Passamaquoddy roots when I first came to Abiquiu I was invited to participate in the six pueblo celebrations along the Rio Grande which made me feel blessed, grateful, included, and at “home.” My own people’s lives… Read More ›
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Equinox Reflection by Sara Wright
I gaze out my bedroom window and hear yet another golden apple hit the ground. The vines that hug the cabin and climb up the screens are heavy with unripe grapes and the light that is filtered through the trees… Read More ›
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Field of Dreams by Sara Wright
Once the new white pine forest that stretches out before me was part of a larger field that belonged to an old farm. The woods cascade down a steep hill on the east side of the house and run parallel… Read More ›
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A Blinding Light? by Sara Wright
Nature is a Living Being. Animals and plants have souls, and a spirit. Each species is unique, and yet we are all interconnected, human and non – human species alike. This is more than a both and perspective; its multi-dimensional…. Read More ›
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A Lover of Bears by Sara Wright
She’s a Lover of Bears. A poet, a dreamer, enamored by beaded eyes black and brown fur, rotund bellies. Heartrending cries. Grunts, moans and huffs – She’s a Lover of Bears. She knows that a Universal Language is spoken by… Read More ›
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Mid –Summer Musings: Lady in Waiting by Sara Wright
Yesterday at the Mid-Summer Turning I took a woodland walk in warm summer rain and then spent a quiet day at home. I visited with a few tadpoles and green frogs that inhabit my vernal pool, sat on the bridge… Read More ›
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Fish Tails: A Grandmother’s Legacy by Sara Wright
When the two year old pulled the silvery gold fish out of the pond to the cheers of her five and seven year old siblings, parents, and grandmother, I shuddered involuntarily. The young perch impaled by sharp hook was gasping… Read More ›
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Independence Day? by Sara Wright
She haunts me little bear, too slight, too wary to seek seed I cast for her under White Pine in whose strong arms she finds comfort and safety, if only for one night. The animals are innocent Where… Read More ›
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Two Friends by Sara Wright
Root Woman Tree Woman Sky Woman Dear friends Greet, converse with one another on the steely silver edge of Truth and Change. Weaving together roots twigs, leaves, clumps of dirt, the two carve out an underground story. Mythic toads instruct… Read More ›
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The Doorway Part Two by Sara Wright
When I look into his face I wonder what he is thinking as he loses himself in sweet mountain mist. He’s alone now. His fear of the unknown keeps him vigilant ears erect, mouth tasting air standing on two legs… Read More ›
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A Beary Peaceful Day Part One by Sara Wright
It is overcast and a few drops of rain are falling. I have been out talking to Tree Bear (TB), a yearling who has brightened my life in these dark soul days. Tree Bear comes up the mossy pine strewn… Read More ›
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Coming Home to Spring by Sara Wright
The older I become the more I appreciate Nature as she is, Nature the Creatrix of the Earth. Nature creating without human intervention. The cycles of life and death are so intimately intertwined and never more evident than in the… Read More ›
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Falling Down and Going Under by Sara Wright
I have been traveling across country during the past week from New Mexico to Maine, leaving one “home” for another wondering what the word even means for me these days. I suspect the word doesn’t refer to a place, but… Read More ›
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The Gift by Sara Wright
We drifted through the green hungrily absorbing plant souls, each twig, flower, and tree has her own story to tell… Such a joyful way for me to spend a ‘mother’s day.’ Being with him when family extends sharp claws… Read More ›
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The Sound of Silence: a mother’s day reflection 2019 by Sara Wright
Here in the high desert it has been raining off and on for the last few days. A giant puddle sits in the driveway and all the trees range in color from subtle shades of sage to emerald. Fringed Chamisa,… Read More ›
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Our Lady is on Fire by Sara Wright
I entered the Silent Tomb; the Mosque felt devoid of Presence. We wandered through a myriad of glorious arched rooms, ornately carved woodwork – soft carpeted floors. Removing our shoes we spoke softly in deference to Something ineffable? Each tiled… Read More ›
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Lise Weil – Requiem by Sara Wright
For the Visionaries of the Women’s Movement and Beyond. “I glimpse lines crazing my face in the windowglass, crone’s bones emerging. My eyes are growing larger; soon they will perch on stalks and swivel, crustacean. The better to see how… Read More ›
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Befriending our Dragons by Sara Wright
“We are an overflowing river. We are a hurricane. We are an earthquake. We are a volcano, a tsunami, a forest fire…” These words written by Judith Shaw speak to the underlying merging of woman’s anger with Earth’s natural disasters,… Read More ›
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Raven’s Cry by Sara Wright
Fake coyote calls split a moon cracked sky in two. False ‘Indian’ hoots and drums stunned sleeping birds – Why do ‘whites’ insist upon using Indigenous ways, to make a point? Coyotes know. Did they think that she was blind… Read More ›
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Seed Bearer by Sara Wright
Yesterday old eyes stung – fierce white heat – blurred vision. Singing love songs, I scattered seeds in furrows raked smooth, tucked tufts under stone… Imagining a Wildflower riot! Bittersweet orange, blue and gold winding through rice grass – sage… Read More ›
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Windigo by Sara Wright
Windigo, the Potawami Nations call him. Malignant, this spirit thrives in the Northern Woods, within the human soul. Hatred for self or other hidden under Lies. Windigo, the Potawami Nations call him He thrives on greed. Empty He can… Read More ›
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Elk Speaks – For Andrew by Sara Wright
In the dream the elk’s antler was a tree made of bone. Silvery tines – tongues of flame hummed at dawn. “Embodied Light.” I would use these words, if asked to describe my young friend’s personality. But words fall short… Read More ›
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The Black Wings of Spring by Sara Wright
Spring on the Wing Red Willow River’s waters are rising. Sea green waves wash whittled beaver sticks against pebble strewn shores. I bend. filling a miniature vessel with river water to hold her song: Water Is Life. Spring is on… Read More ›
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Dear Mary by Sara Wright
This piece was written in response to Gina Messina’s recent Feminism and Religion piece “Who is God?” Dear Mary, When I responded to a post on feminism and religion this morning I wrote that you were my first goddess. As… Read More ›
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When the Cranes Come by Sara Wright
Departure. I stood deep in a toad hole slinging mud at twilight when the sky turned lemon and gold. They arced over my head in pairs, loose aggregations – it seemed like thousands crying out, crossing the river. Ensouled. Spirits… Read More ›
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For Love of Trees by Sara Wright
Yesterday I dreamed that I discovered a bird’s nest that was hidden in the center of an evergreen tree. This little dream moved me deeply because this is the time of year I celebrate my love and gratitude for all… Read More ›
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When “The Storm Left No Flowers” – A Review by Sara Wright
During the last year I have been struggling with the catastrophic effects of Climate Change like never before as I witness the continuation of a drought that is withering plants, starving tree roots, shriveling our wildflowers and wild grasses, leaving… Read More ›
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“Renewal?” 2019 by Sara Wright
Just that one word dreamed the night of January 1st. Last evening all my Bear Circle animals gathered in front of the 8 flickering candles (intentions I had set for this coming year) – most were about the loving the… Read More ›
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Dreamscape 2018 by Sara Wright
I awaken chilled. Darkness before dawn refuses to illuminate frost covered bark – frozen crystal fingers. Barely breathing. the forest sleeps, Roots pulse Light. I am running from future or past – Withering away in wrinkled skin, Earth shudders. Am… Read More ›
