Poems by Robert Racicot

First Snow

(Linc Vannah and Jeanne Hergenrother)

by Robert Racicot

From Canary Winter 2019-20

Rob lives within walking distance of the French River in south central Massachusetts and hikes the many miles of Army Corp trails along the river with his dog Ginger.

The background coffee shop voices
morph into a steady white buzz
like Rocky Mountain October snow
silently falling in phase,
tiny parachuted invaders
besieging a rock-walled aspen grove.

I travel inside myself,
back through every first snow;
nothing compares to this place
where I stand inside
the planet’s largest living body.

Born of one root,
each tree equal
in worth, in line, in step,
like snow-winged armies
marching off to fight,
survive and propagate
in Colorado’s aspen fronts.

I crave her forest breath,
feed back my burnt carbon;
like the moon and tides, in and out,
again and again, we are in sync,
tuned musicians amplifying waves.

We are one and I am
least alone
hidden inside
her still
white
blanketed
body.