BROOKS ROBARDS

★ ★ ★ ★

POETRY

The Woods From the Road

It takes a long time
to bring the trees back
to life; to melt down
the months of late snow
over wasted ground cover—
leaves, branches, grasses
emptied of color.

It is such a long time
before tree tips redden
beyond the point of no return
and burst into leaves,

a long time before
the beeches push off
last season’s stubborn crop
of mummified leaves,
until sky opens up
to blue, and streams break
through ice-littered snow.

To see the changes come
takes a long time,
when we move so fast,
so far from the woods.

The Color of Snow

Nothing visible in snow,
all its colors buried in
whiteness, a brightness
blown back to the sun.

Some say snow is blue,
reflecting sky, but blue
belongs more to ice,
frozen in transparency

While cloud’s gray stays
halfway between white,
color-hidden, and black,
it offers no color at all.

Gray would be winter’s color,
sucking light toward black.
Gray is what we hope for
in the black time of year.

Brooks Robards has published five volumes of poetry, the most recent of which are Fishing the Desert (2015), with photographer Siegfried Halus, and On Island (2014), with painter Hermine Hull.  Her work in anthologies and periodicals includes: Wednesday’s Poets, Island Quintet, Avocet, Aurorean, Cleaveland House Poets, Plainsongs, Fulcrum, Equinox and Silkworm. She lives in Northampton, MA, and summers on Martha’s Vineyard.

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