Autumn in Vermont

4 October, 2010 § Leave a comment

What I wouldn’t give to see the leaves of Lyndon falling,
To hear the geese fly overhead their destination calling.

The sight of Crystal Lake in coolness fresh, it overwhelms me.
In Old Vermont, in Irasburg, that’s where I’d like to be.

The Halls of Danville springing alive, in dance and celebration.
In each home a softer glow of warmth and resignation.

The old farm house in Waterford, with Briar and all the cats,
long walks down the leaf strewn road, the attic filled with bats.

Oh to see the reddening leaves of bustling St.  J,
The house on Costa Avenue, now empty it does lay.

To sit in Boxcar and Caboose and read to hearts content,
or defy the cold, to Carman’s go and try the Chocolate Mint.

I would like to be there sir, but here I am to be,
And someday I will see again the lake at Willoughby.

For now I reminisce; the sights and sounds of autumn’s breeze,
For certain that of Old Vermont in which I am at ease.


Today is the two year anniversary of this poem that I wrote in Pottersville New York. I still feel the same way, Ohio has a harsher autumn than New York or Vermont.


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