Unhinged Climate

Written By Julia Clebsch

Photo by Julia Clebsch

The winter-bone-white sycamore with Halloween-witch branches holds the riverbank. Smaller bone trees line the opposite bank, keeping dirt back from the river’s pull. Someday, the river of colors—Mediterranean blue, moss, umber—will grasp to unhinge the trees. Roots will be exposed, water working its way between them, pulling to bring the trees into a desperate rush. Down they will float, bobbing like uneasy, drowning canoes. On that day, Lower Town Harpers Ferry will give in, and the flood-thrown trees will gather against the buildings, pounding to enter, as tourists had.

Julia Clebsch

Julia Clebsch (she/her) writes creative non-fiction based on place, natural history, and family, which can be found in Five Minutes, Hoot: a postcard review of {mini} poetry and prose, A Mouthful of Salt, and elsewhere. Being the daughter and granddaughter of botanists and naturalists, influences Clebsch’s writing and worldview, as does being lesbian living with mental illness. She has been on four reading teams for Five Minutes, read original work at Salem Literary Festival (MA), is twice a WOW Women on Writing finalist.

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