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.

Death’s Tap

Death’s Tap

Frost makes frozen confection of the lawn

while ice forms– too soon–upon the pond

with angled etchings of  broken twigs,

mirroring the season to come…

Schiele, detail

The dock is slippery when I cross

so I proceed with care

as if at a viewing,

of Summer past.

Just as I step down upon the rock

that leads back to the road,

I am tapped on the shoulder

by a hanging branch



Kelly Salasin, Late Autumn 2009