Winter Rain A few months in, the rain is no longer a novelty. I don’t know what feels more defeating the understanding that this relentless seeping could be winter for as far as I can see or the realization that this time next year I may choose to be bundled up a thousand miles away in white cold, scarf coiled around my throat, dry-eyed and silent.
Kathryn Knudson has been writing poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction for more than twenty years. Her work has been anthologized in Blink Again: Sudden Fiction from the Upper Midwest and In Our Own Words: A Generation Defining Itself. She has published work in journals including Main Channel Voices, Saint Paul Almanac, Pindeldyboz, and many others. Her poetry was most recently published in Talking Stick, Volume 23, where her poem was selected as Poetry Editor’s Choice.
A graduate of Kenyon College and Perpich Center for Arts Education, Kat lives in Minneapolis with her husband and their sheep dog.