Woodstove in the July Heat by Rosemary Clewes

June 23, 2022
Poem title: Woodstove in the July Heat Poet name: Rosemary Clewes Poem: Lake Rosseau, 1939 One night not these dark November ones not the sharp bite or the embattled sky that bring snow or freezing rain nor the bones of trees cling of mildewed maple leaves but here atmosphere so thick you can feel its pulse gather it in your hand pack it into cloud-balls not swift as cherry pits far as you can spit (no tree here for a target or competition with your sibs) yet something air weighty as prophecy straightening its tie resettling the shoulders of its jacket before it arrives that night it doesn’t happen like you’d think Ezekiel does not send a wheel a’ rollin way in the middle of the air braced we stand shoulder on my brothers & sister & me four in descending height closing ranks at the shore we wait for a cosmic sign I can smell the musk its scent unspooling the presence of pronouncement pressing my lungs strange the way sky welds lake to itself the quivering silence gives us the jitters then it comes that torrent in summer tandem-tied to the rhyming wind the pock-mark lake and the shape of rain stinging our bare arms drowning the memory of supper around the woodstove swelter eyes blinded ears full of it our mouths amphibian again End of poem. Credits and Bio: Copyright © Rosemary Clewes “Woodstove in the July Heat” is the premier poem in a new book: Rain on my Skin: awaiting publication. The book is a life-work of adventure, travel, early loss and love interwoven with a growing connection to the natural world. It is both history, memoir and elegy commencing in 1939. After many rich years as a social worker, a horsewoman, pianist, painter and printmaker, Rosemary Clewes embraced poetry. She has been named for the National Book Awards and The CBC Literary Prize. She has rafted and kayaked some of the great rivers and fjords in the Western and Eastern Arctic. She has published five books. She lives in Toronto.