It’s halfway between snow and rain now,
a cold mist falling, gently.
Three ravens chase in the distance
soaring against drifting blue-gray clouds.
Here and there, patches of wet snow linger.
The storm has passed, but
clouds are drifting from the north;
tonight will come a big freeze.
And there are the ravens again,
further off now. And there’s smoke
in the next valley over—someone is burning,
a good time for it: no chance of fire spreading.
The feral kitten we took in last November
is curled and purring in my lap.
Besides that, it is quiet.
When I look again, the ravens have gone.
BEHIND THE MEOW:
The kitten I refer to in the last stanza was one my husband coaxed out from under our deck after we discovered her in our back yard, cold, wet, emaciated, and full of ticks, fleas, and worms. She bit him hard when he tried to capture her, but he held on. My husband needed a course of antibiotics to fight the infection that ensued, and the kitten, of course, also needed a lot of care. We fed and cleaned her, and took her to the vet for medications. It took only a few days for her to understand that we were her people. The morning I describe in this poem stands out to me as a moment of perfection a few months after we took her in: outside, the cold world cycles on; inside, there is warmth and comfort.
ABOUT:
Jennifer Rood lives in Southern Oregon with her husband, teenager, and two cats: VeeBee and Soren Kittygard. She is a past president of Oregon Poetry Association, and served as the Artist-in-Residence at the Oregon Caves National Monument in Fall 2023. Her most recent poetry appears in Big Wing Review, The Literary Hatchet, and Willawaw Journal, with more to come soon in Encore and The Cherita. Present and Speaking Everywhere: A Collection of Found Poetry and Art (Not a Pipe Publishing, 2024) is her first full-length collection. Check out some of her work on Instagram @jennrood100.
EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING: Astral Jones — Outside My Window
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