A Poem by Karen Kelsay
We sit near the stream edge, under the pine’s
brittle fingers. Our collective breath
drapes between low branches
like a foggy sheet across autumn’s arms.
You spot a black bear in the distance;
I marvel how a sky so blue
can be so cold. Daylight has become
brief, the valley blurred into a ribbon
of frayed leaves. At dusk I see
Denali’s shadow from my balcony,
moose eat fuchsias by the backyard deck.
Stalks of rhubarb twist
and bend to earth, breathing
a chilly sigh. No matter how many
winters I greet, this place
will always seem foreign to me.
Everything lies exhausted, the beauty
too vast, God too near.