January Walk<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The wind has twisted the tops of hemlock and fir;
\ncones and needles spatter the muddy path.
\nRising from nearby chimneys: wood smoke and ash.
\nA cold mist washes my cheek and cattails stir
\nthe breeze, climbing dried and broken reeds
\nwhile birdsong mixes swift, twitter, chit,
\nand swallows hide among the rosehip thickets.
\nMy jacket snags on tangled arches, while beads
\nof dew fall from the vine. The year begins
\nanew. I thumb the cat-tongue underside
\nof a blackberry leaf, startled by its thorn.
\nOne snapped branch divides our trail. The winds
\nhave spun so little down. Despite the wide
\nweather warning, this time we missed the storm.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
published in Poetry Northwest<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Carol Light <\/a>has poems published in Narrative Magazine, American Life in Poetry, Poetry Northwest, Prairie Schooner, Literary Bohemian, Pacific Poetry Project,<\/em> and elsewhere. In 2011 she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, named a Writing Fellow with Jack Straw Productions, <\/a>and received a GAP award for poetry from Artist Trust.<\/a> She studied poetry in the MFA program at the University of Washington<\/a> where she was awarded the Academy of American Poets prize. She teaches part-time at Olympic College and lives with her family in Port Townsend, Washington.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" January Walk The wind has twisted the tops of hemlock and fir; cones and needles spatter the muddy path. Rising from nearby chimneys: wood smoke and ash. A cold mist washes my cheek and cattails stir the breeze, climbing … Continue reading