The Collected Poetry

While Watching the Road in Vermont

While watching the road in Vermont, the spotted shadows of leaves danced against the quiet alley, away from me, places I’d never been. Cars moved along, surreally modern against the living light, rich and heavy and deadening. Solemn people filled the street, the sound of a door slamming came…slowly to my head. An angry soul dragged her child, spitting fire. But everywhere you turned was righteousness. Layers. How could you believe anything they say about history? To try, to feel, in all seriousness, and take to heart, these are not zeitgeist. There are no ghosts, only written ones. To inspire is to love. From us, the center of ourselves comes thought. And so passion, and history. So I write, while watching the road in Vermont.