There is a weather for every emotion in Natalie Kimbell’s poems, always fresh and nuanced as every moment is- with tears, joy, heartbreak, revelations. In this book Kimbell’s skill is in lifting the fog of memory, splashing barefoot in the rain of new love, and holding her family as safe as sunlight on the mountains. Here is a woman sharing the prime of her wisdom, her inner weather always big enough for the whole of life!

–Susan Underwood, Author of Splinter

In this her second chapbook, And the Weather Remains the Same, “a refracted light ignites” with poet Natalie Kimbell’s bold use of form, nature, and color, luring the reader into a journey of raw emotion where the speaker becomes a “creature reborn” in every line and poem. Kimbell “shadow slips/between the slats of a sonnet” all the while uttering through her bold images, layers of personal love, loss, grief, and surprises in life. The reader imagines Kimbell’s mother instructing her to “never say never” in a life that is like “colored yarn cut in a rug.” We sense, the speaker is a rebel whose heart experiences reflect a “yearning” for more. Natalie Kimbell crafts a spirited look at shared life experience from the outset of this beautiful book where the speaker seeks “hope in the dead” until the close where “Future leans in the doorway” with her “Salvation.” And, the weather does remain the same.

–Sue Weaver Dunlap, author of Thursday’s Child (Main Street Rag, 2025

And the Weather Remains the Same is a powerful collection of poems that echo grief in failed relationships. Kimbell skillfully uses many metaphors to show the facets of grief from loneliness and loss as a mechanism that leads to hope and ultimately salvation. Whether it’s through weather, plants, butterflies, or fish, the voices are heard in her heart-infused lines: (1) inhale the breeze that ruffles my hair / your musk rising from dead leaves, (2) [what it’s like to survive a broken heart is] like steering your car on a narrow switchback // two-lane road on an unfamiliar mountain through a storm, (3) You melt yellow poplar like ripened pears, / from green to gold to dark honey, (4) I plow head downward …leave a wake / of petals indifferent to the beauty / of small things, and many more. Even humor slips in to crack a smile at hurt, let alone irony. Kimbell shows her command of language and form and this is a highly recommended read to find solace despite the pain.

–John C. Mannone, author of Sacred Flute (Iris Press, 2024) and seven other collections

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