Artwork courtesy Tex Fontanella and John M. Bennett

 

An Ode to Water

In winter

it is a drink that

I disdain

unless it steeps

my tea—

give me instead

the taste

of fermented grape—

or a shot

taken straight—

the first

for its afterglow of

contentment—

the latter whenever

I require an

immediate blast of

furnace heat

 

In summer

such abstention is

rescinded—in

cup glass or dipper—

bring me

the well’s depths—

aged nectar

from ancient clouds—

with a tang of

iron for seasoning—

something so

elementally simple

that the sun’s

furnace is nullified

by the shock

of its ambrosia’s

aching chill

 

Breaking Something

This deep in winter, with everything

frozen solid,

I feel like breaking something,

be it a window

encased in frost, the monotony,

my dormant heart,

anything to contradict the sound of

ice thickening,

that wind crystalizing the season.

 

Instead, by the fire, I escape into

a book’s babble,

reading until a river of lines blurs

and hardens,

silencing the words’ cacophony.

Held captive in

the arms of a chair’s rigid frame,

logs now embers,

I find the chill has stiffened me, too.

______________________________

Robert Koehler is a Madison poet and his blog, Robert Up At Dawn, can be found at https://robertupatdawn.wordpress.com