The Chill

by Karen Kelsay

She calls when apple boughs are light
in frost and arch with weight of ruby-clustered
globes. When aspens rise like candles
tipped in gold, each glimmering on autumn’s

fading hills. I hear her muted winter words.
They chill the maple into hues of red and chant
of northern lights and falling stars. My pear
tree drops its fruit, a magpie tucks

her wing, and every silver birch begins
to lose its crown. All nature chants for snow
while I turn like the tamarack along the ridge,
whose naked branches long for summer sky.

Karen Kelsay is a native Californian who travels to England every year to visit her extended family. Her poetry has been published in many online and print magazines, the most recent being Mad Swirl, Hudson View Poetry Digest, Soundzine, and Sage Trail. Her first chapbook, A Fist of Roots, will be published next year by Puddinghouse Press.

Back to Issue Two: Winter 2009