A Bare Season Past
When the ghost pepper breath of fire exhaled
immolating the parched undergrowth of summer,
whatever I touched billowed then drifted,
ash to barren ground.
What I carried with me fit into my chest pocket,
tiny as sequoia seeds that sprout only after
they are awakened by searing heat.
December’s chill breeze slaps me
into alertness I didn’t feel in my warm kitchen.
Ice crusts the snow where I trudge.
When Earth spins it is unfelt,
but when the vat of darkness tips sooner
and the woods grow quiet,
crunch amplifies beneath my boots.
A lone chickadee calls sweetie from a spruce.
Animals are scarce, gone to ground,
in torpor that mimics the ice.
The mind sees what it will.
A bent and blackened tree
masquerades as a deer.
A cluster of snow falls
onto my bare neck.
Each flake is a crystalline marvel,
fully formed in its brief flight —
that like us, catches the waning light
for a flicker.
…..
This poem is from the chapbook The Unfolding by Nancy Sobanik (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/the-unfolding-by-nancy-sobanik/
Nancy Sobanik is a graduate of The University of Connecticut. She is a Registered Nurse who has had a diverse and rewarding career working in Intensive Care, School Nursing and the Emergency Department. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net.
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