The city I live in, Montpelier, Vermont, is embracing National Poetry Month (April) with a fantastic amount of energy and enthusiasm. Montpelier has become PoemCity with hundreds of poems in window shops all over town. I have a poem displayed in the window of No. 9 Boutique on Main Street. I read my fellow windowmates today and I am in very good company. Here’s my poem.
What Vermont is Really Like:
Light from farmhouse windows
Spilling into the evening,
Barns.
Dirt roads.
Hay fields in summer,
Snow fields in winter.
Walking to the Quaker cemetery,
My boots crunch the snow
Like bones beneath my feet.
A worn headstone,
Half-covered by a drift,
Reads “West”
The middle name
Of my own middle child.
I am a traveler here—
My children will build roots
But I am just passing through,
Vaguely uncomfortable.
My path in the snow
Is conspicuous now
But will fade and disappear
Like the writing on gravestones,
Only a handful of generations old,
Already gone.
Michellealsinger's Blog 
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