a poetry e-zine










Taylor Graham



For just an instant she holds him in bright

air faceted as crystal. Last night's snow

glitters on a winter's bed of ice.


on its slant of dawn, amber-golden, low.


The trail beckons as he waxes skis, checks

his topo map. A basin ringed with hills

and higher, cornices like cloud with flecks

of glory.

Now the deep bowl whitens, fills


with sun-wash against shadow. Not a tree

breaks the perfect surface -

only a crack

of crispness under the silk-glide of ski

over snowfield, a trail that won't lead back.


She holds him briefly

and then lets him go

to the ever-changing, the forever




Taylor Graham is a volunteer search-and-rescue dog handler in the Sierra Nevada. She's included in the anthologies Villanelles (Everyman's Library, 2012) and California Poetry: From the Gold Rush to the Present (Santa Clara University, 2004). Her book The Downstairs Dance Floor was awarded the Robert Philips Poetry Chapbook Prize. What the Wind Says, a collection of dog poems focusing on her canine search partners over the past forty years, is forthcoming.


Copyright 2013  Chantarelle's Notebook