New Hampshire March

New Hampshire March

by

Zachoia Cooper

(age 17)

Here am I in all my barrenness—

I am only an outline 

Of hills and rocks and wires of branches

I have no heavy snow to majestically hush the atmosphere

Nor am I clothed in versicolored leaves

My thawing-cold lakes and muddy, rutted roads are not ready for summer’s tourists.

Here am I in all my barrenness—

Pools of water traced with ice hold down broken, taupe plants

My rivers reflect back camouflaged branches and sky—

Bare, Brown over Low, Gray.

Here am I in all my barrenness—

Melting snow trickles down granite roadside walls. 

My ground holds no flowery surprises

Only uncovered flat, brown grass 

(It mixes old, dirty spots of green here and there.)

Scanty tree’s gloom is broken only by the occasional dark evergreen

Or exposed lichens on branches.

Here am I in all my barrenness—

The tree-gaps reveal all my secrets:

Red mill buildings distorted into brown by lack of sunlight.

Yellow construction parking lots.

Squat and faded warehouses.

There you are in all you barrenness

No sun, or snow, or leaves.

I look

At beautiful New Hampshire.

(original and unedited)

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