Don’t we know those tall skies, tho, and how
a blue vista, seemingly without a cloud in sight,
can still be a high pressure system. 

Don’t we know the ravel at the edge, and yes,
I want the world unfinished, my part of it at least,
an obvious work in progress. 

Last night an accident at an intersection,
insurance and assurance and the whole to-do.
Today I stayed in bed til nearly noon,

catching up with myself. The body knew,
somehow, when to park. The limbs refused, not
for illness or injury, but attuning to the blue,

interior adjustments as winter sunshine 
warmed a pillow, and the alarm was snoozed.
I lazed, my lover elsewhere. You see, 

I’ve become fascinated with what happens, and
with what happens when we cut apart
what we are given, what we have on hand, 

to stitch and fasten new. What beauties we uncover,
there at the intersection of accident and arrange.
Like this tall indigo-hued fragment 

of a life: unhemmed, so intimate. 

[Sarah Sadie lives in a small Wisconsin town perched on a continental divide between two rivers in a magical house. She grows gardens in five gallon buckets and poems in the early morning moments before the day intrudes. She’s pretty sure the world needs new stories, and those stories are already here, waiting to be brought into being through conversation and connection across the spaces between us. If you can’t make it to Wisconsin, you can also find her holding An inviting Space for those conversations online: https://aninvitingspace.substack.com ]