Iron sky

Iron sky

Schiele, detail

i wake to an iron sky; without a sliver of sun to lighten the density of my mind. i look down toward the pond and find it frozen too; while sounds from the road rise up through the bare trees, leaving me tense, as if house guests or repairmen or deliveries or burglars are heading up my driveway this very moment. the woodstove burns well on a day like today, but i sit at the table with my second cup of tea, unable to kindle a flame inside. i feel every bit as hard as the earth, until i look out and see the snow falling, and i surrender once again to the sweet return of its gentle rhythm–the gift of winter–an old woman’s life-giving tears.

First (real) Snow

First (real) Snow

At Sweeties counter, I overhear that snow is in the forecast.
What kind?” I ask.
The white stuff,” is all they offer, mocking my resistance.

Vermont is
with Winter.

Like an expectant mother,
I can’t fathom that from this belly comes a baby,
a New Universe unto Itself

Covered  for 4 or 5 or 6 months
in a soft


Kelly Salasin, November 2007