Home

Winter Lullaby

By Karen Kelsay

It’s always in the violet hour you call,
when dusk spreads infant-smooth across the skies,
and winter teeters on the wings of Fall.
The poplars change to gold and improvise.

In spite of chill, the memory of you warms.
Unpunctual star, kind winter brings you near,
to break you from your listlessness—transforms
that vagrant whisper I can barely hear

to incandescent words; the subtle burn
of maple leaves to red, a flame of thought
that gives the seasoned birch a breathless turn,
as random dreams within its twigs are caught.

Next:
Previous:

About Karen Kelsay

Karen Kelsay, a native of Orange County, is the owner of Aldrich Press and White Violet Press, two small indie presses that publish formalist and free verse poetry. Some of Karen’s recent poems have been published in Mezzo Cammin, The Raintown Review, and The Pennsylvania Review. In 2012 she received the Fluvanna Prize from The Lyric, and is the editor of the online poetry and art journal, Victorian Violet Press.

Leave a Comment