Barton, Vermont

Who can tell what might have been?
This question that kept ringing in my head
Like Robert Kennedy wrote once in his Profile
as my wife and I walked quietly into our old house
This eighty one Glover Road in Barton, Vermont
A few miles down from the Crystal Lake
which is now being watched by the giant wind turbines
The white power that has engulfed the Northeast kingdom
In Martha Pitts' over century year old Victorian
Who or what else can we proclaim?
The road seems longer now
and this coldest day in January
Yet, none seems to fade away so soon
The children singing, laughing,
riding their bicycles in the basement
as I wrote countless songs, poetry and prose
In order to keep my dream alive
Why?
for my people, who else?
Now I understood
The birds have flown away
The trouble is here to find
the roof is almost touched the sky
Byron?
The church bell...
This dependable old furnace
keeps on running
Looking to find the solution
The Bread and Puppets...
My brother in law
even Peter Shoeman is not to be found
What else can I say?
Tonight..in this house....this old house...
I shall paint it in my memory
Despite not knowing who
can tell what might have been

B. John
St. Johsnbury, VT
January 15, 2012
10:51pm