Kelsay Books

Debut Poetry Collection: Watershed

Rae SpencerLeave a comment

I’m delighted to announce that my first poetry collection, Watershed (Kelsay Books), has been released in paperback and Kindle ebook formats. The paperback ($20/US) is available through the Kelsay Books website (here) or through Amazon (here), while the Kindle ebook ($9.99/US) is available through Amazon (here). (For more details, I’ve created a permanent page for Watershed here.)

Watershed front cover: a pale sunset image of clouds and sky over a pool of water, which reflects the clouds and sky, surrounded by seagrasses and shrubs. Text on the cover reads: Watershed, poems, Rae Spencer.

The poems in Watershed are mostly autobiography, written within my nostalgia for the landscapes of Tennessee, my journey into Virginia’s coastal landscapes, and my tenuous understandings of how “growing up” changes my gaze.

Photograph of a chickadee fledgling perched on our deteriorating fence. The young chickadee is shedding downy nestling feathers, while the fence’s aged wood is cracked and weathered.

As I pondered this post, how to introduce my debut collection, I finally grasped the word connection between debut and debutante. How ridiculous to contrast myself–middle-age, married, and profoundly awkward–against the idealized debutantes of historical romances.

Photograph of my reflection in a window. My face is hidden by the camera I used to capture the image. My graying hair is shoulder-length in tangled layers. I’m wearing a sleeveless shirt, so the tattoos on my hands and arms are visible–an ink collection of flora and fauna.

And yet, here I am, a debut author sending my first poetry collection into the world. I’ve loved every minute of the process, from the writing to the planning to the organizing to the submission to the rounds of editing after acceptance, all the way through this final phase of setting up author pages and posting announcements. I suppose all of this means that I’m finding my way.

Photograph of a brown thrasher fledgling hiding in a nook between a planter and our fence. The little fledgling is brown-and-tan-striped with the exaggerated beak, forehead, and eyes that render baby birds endearingly cute.

Finding my way to where?

To here, for now. To exactly where I am.

Photograph of an osprey passing overhead with a large fish grasped in its talons. The osprey’s muscular wings are fully extended, long tan-striped primary feathers spread at the tips, and its sharp beak and eyes are turned toward some unseen destination.
Photograph of a blue jay in the process of taking flight from the top of our wooden fence. The blue jay’s wings are extended, tiny black feet stretched into its launch. The bird is carrying in its beak a peanut, selected from a small pile of peanuts we left on the fence.

To a small yard in a sprawling suburb, somewhere in the middle of life’s extremes, poised between the lush luxuries of nostalgia and hope. There’s always something precarious on the horizon, but, for today, I’m here.

Photograph of a hummingbird perched on a woody vine of honeysuckle. There are no honeysuckle blooms in frame, so everything is green and brown, including the hummingbird’s feathers.

The following links lead to articles, essays, and posts that are more important and more interesting than my debut poetry collection: