Poem: Living in Ripton, Vermont

“Rails/on a sleigh for the ride up to/Bread Loaf. Its rising mountain./ Its writers, porch-rocking, revising/their novels and poems, refusing/to correct a frozen typo.”

A poem by Abigail Balon, 14, of Panton was published by the Young Writers Project last month.

“Better to donate what we can./Give away our hearts,/Be lifted. Tenor to soprano./The phantoms in our barns,/Love struck in Panton’s stones.”

A poem in memory of Lia Smith.

A poem from Gary Margolis.

Cornwall family brings a new kind of sound that’s definitely worth a listen.

“Who wouldn’t want/to be led back to their century/their tent their house of stones?”

“Finding Hope Within” is a new exhibit at the Henry Sheldon Museum of Vermont History that features a collection of writings and artwork produced by incarcerated men and women in Vermont.

Where is the woodcutter’s youngest son,/ the poor widow’s clever daughter? Surely/ somewhere there’s an enchanted sword, a prince/ in bear’s clothing, a talking cat, a key/ to a secret door. Isn’t there a lamp?

In high-summer evening-light four barefoot Amish/ kids bend, pulling weeds from their garden./ My mother looks at them from the car window, smiles/ at the young woman on the porch who holds a baby close.

Let me note this morning I came/ across a coin, I thought, crossing/ Tully Road. Once a path for local/ soldiers. Farmers mostly. And nut/ gatherers. Its face looked more like/ a quarter. Washington’s. Until I looked/ more closely. Actually kneeled down.

So you want power?/ You want control?/ And when you have it?/ And when people all over/ are living in fear and hate?/ What then will they think of you?

Never thought you’d sing/ her name./ A girl you never knew. Swaying/ with a stadium of strangers…

Not that you or I couldn’t have stood/ on our feet. For twenty-four hours./ Speaking impassionately./ Sat in a chair. Lain in a bed./ Reading words cast on a ceiling./ Rising, as we could, to the occasion…

Good night, Ilsley, our old friend./ With thanks and admiration\ we’ll watch with eager eyes and hearts/ your budding transformation.