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Rain is an excuse
I didn't want to use so
I went out into
the filter of cloud,
a day imitating Ansel Adams with
256 zones of gray,
each a color of its own,
each distinct,
each alive,
and crisp,
and clear.
The autumn foliage
plots to cheat the day
with muted pigment,
but light doesn't allow it.
Water, sky, tree, grasses
full of color, yet not.
Silver water beads on waxy leaves.
I won't sit on the park bench today,
but I stand at the juncture of black and white,
in the cast of muted light,
in the spectrum filtered sky.
© Rob Smith 2006 all rights reserved. Do not repost
or copy without permission from the author.
I didn't want to use so
I went out into
the filter of cloud,
a day imitating Ansel Adams with
256 zones of gray,
each a color of its own,
each distinct,
each alive,
and crisp,
and clear.
The autumn foliage
plots to cheat the day
with muted pigment,
but light doesn't allow it.
Water, sky, tree, grasses
full of color, yet not.
Silver water beads on waxy leaves.
I won't sit on the park bench today,
but I stand at the juncture of black and white,
in the cast of muted light,
in the spectrum filtered sky.
© Rob Smith 2006 all rights reserved. Do not repost
or copy without permission from the author.
presents the long-awaited first volume of poetry from Rob Smith, the 2006 winner of the Robert Frost Poetry Award. |
| Now available at Bird Dog! |
Click on cover to visit Bird Dog
Publishing or to order on line.
Publishing or to order on line.