by
Rebecca Kai Dotlich
It was the year of ice, they said,
the year of slip and slide and fall --
so what was a girl to do but put the hose
to her yard, lace up her skates,
ballerina glide, slice figure eights
while brother and cousins
caught dozens of flakes, falling
onto their tongues, then they
formed mitten-chains, chilled circles
in winter. How now she hears echoes
of wind-white years storming her dreams
come December; full-frosted sky
and chimney smoke above. And love,
from such a long, long time away
from here.
©2011 Rebecca Kai Dotlich. All rights reserved.
Can Rebecca Kai Dotlich turn a phrase or what?! The images she paints, the feelings she evokes in the reader, the sense of time and place... and, yeah, I know. I'm falling into fanboy mode again, but what can you do? Just like last time, with Midnight Stray (who one commenter called "pretty much a perfect poem"), she's packed so much in so little space that I'm left scratching my head figuring out how she did it.
Of course, it's not a surprise. If you've read her poems anywhere or read Bella & Bean, her most recent picture book, you run into the same wonderful use of language no matter the subject. And if you haven't read her... well, fix that ASAP! Then, I know, you'll see why I'm so excited to have Rebecca Kai Dotlich here as part of 30 Poets/30 Days.
Earlier we had The Voice of the Voiceless by J. Patrick Lewis. Tomorrow we start off with three tanka from Nikki Grimes! For more information on 30 Poets/30 Days and how to follow along, please click here.
4 comments:
Gorgeous! We can't wait to host Rebecca for an SCBWI Southern Breeze poetry retreat here in Georgia in June. :0)
Good gracious she can write! Balance that with her generous spirit and honest feedback of your work and what you get is a true friend.
Oh, excellent - yard skating! Love that!
Holy Toledo. I love Rebecca's poetry, and while I adore her metered/rhymed work (she's a master at it), I also think it's a shame more of her free verse isn't available. And this poem is why.
How now she hears echoes
of wind-white years storming her dreams
come December; full-frosted sky
and chimney smoke above.
Perfection...
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