Isabella Nebel
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Acorn Whale" by Jonathan Fee
December
Give me the spindled woods that offer sight
of my neighbors’ warmest hours in darkest night.
Give me the careful, shadowed light
that winter spreads between the branches
instead of leaves. Give me snow
to soften sounds of absent flight,
and wind that heaves the walls of white
and cleans our eyes by offering that only sight.
If it could be winter every day, it would
vanquish fear that it might stay
~~~~~~~~~~~
January
How can we be so warm in January’s arms?
As if the razored sleet did not cut our cheeks.
As if the wind that froze the pond and cracked
the trees, could not make our own limbs freeze.
As if the icy glass we pry open to breathe
were not stuck shut from windowsill to eve.
As if the fire we try and try to light again
were not put out each time by frozen rain.
How can we feel so safe and peaceful yet?
It is the spring our bodies won’t forget.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Rainbow Dragonfly" by Isabella Nebel
Sunday Evening, January
The goat is on top of the shed.
Knock kneed, hunched, hips in lock,
his beard trembles from across the field.
Can he get down the way he came?
In limpid, kicked jumping leap, that motion
that lifted him, as an angel orator, waiting
for his moment to begin, his crowd to grow.
It's not likely anyone will come this far;
the churches are empty, the cold has seeped
in, everyone hides until the end of March.
Silence proves his wisdom.
He came from this - not long ago
his ancestors perched on crags above
us, above clouds. Maybe his memory
serves him now, as his forelegs buckle,
and he bends, folding himself like in prayer,
he lies on the shingle roof, the snow,
his mantle, falling around him in grace.
~~~~~~~~~~~
©2006 Isabella Nebel
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