Grand Isle sits in Lake Champlain. The ferry takes you from the eastern New York State shore to the western side of Grand Isle which you transit, then a causeway takes you to the Vermont side.
Unused to the swaying bumping and grinding
They balk at too confining unfamiliar places
Settled wide eyed they wait for the end
of this abnormal piggyback experience
The approach is from the west
Granite cliffs with variegated green from knarled old trees
Foliage moving in the water wind covers the tops and clings with effortless grace
To the rock face accepting without effort or impact
the constant scrubbing of burnished steel waves
Low gold sun smeared clouds in come hither fingers
Float below a cover of Appaloosa stratus promising a misty rain
all anchored to a range of darker mountains
dressed for the day in morning glove grey
Cupolas and spires punctuate the forest
as white and grey clapboard jeffersonians and victorians
shyly wave flags through clearings
Promising village greens and lanes
that offer refuge respite or rest as needed
Scenes familiar to Thoreau Frost Whitman and Rockwell
The road rises up and wanders away from the harbor
Dressed in Halloween orange trim gratuitously splendored
by endless Beds of tigerlillies in profusion
against the verge of the wet black asphalt
Bordering Irish green fields succulent from this years abundant rain
Passing century farmsteads manicured in rose gardens and whitewash
Sleeping the easy day away without concern for wandering wistful thinkers
Dreaming of the idyl here this shangrla
In gentle twists of undulatiing meandering the road becomes
By chance and in far too short a time
direct to where this Avalon touches tentatively
An arrow straight causeway which drains my enchantment
To hold it ready for the next wistful traveller entering by this exit
Poetry by josephus
Read 555 times
Written on 2018-12-25 at 00:17
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Transiting Grand Isle
The vehicles are anxious being herded aboard the ferryUnused to the swaying bumping and grinding
They balk at too confining unfamiliar places
Settled wide eyed they wait for the end
of this abnormal piggyback experience
The approach is from the west
Granite cliffs with variegated green from knarled old trees
Foliage moving in the water wind covers the tops and clings with effortless grace
To the rock face accepting without effort or impact
the constant scrubbing of burnished steel waves
Low gold sun smeared clouds in come hither fingers
Float below a cover of Appaloosa stratus promising a misty rain
all anchored to a range of darker mountains
dressed for the day in morning glove grey
Cupolas and spires punctuate the forest
as white and grey clapboard jeffersonians and victorians
shyly wave flags through clearings
Promising village greens and lanes
that offer refuge respite or rest as needed
Scenes familiar to Thoreau Frost Whitman and Rockwell
The road rises up and wanders away from the harbor
Dressed in Halloween orange trim gratuitously splendored
by endless Beds of tigerlillies in profusion
against the verge of the wet black asphalt
Bordering Irish green fields succulent from this years abundant rain
Passing century farmsteads manicured in rose gardens and whitewash
Sleeping the easy day away without concern for wandering wistful thinkers
Dreaming of the idyl here this shangrla
In gentle twists of undulatiing meandering the road becomes
By chance and in far too short a time
direct to where this Avalon touches tentatively
An arrow straight causeway which drains my enchantment
To hold it ready for the next wistful traveller entering by this exit
Poetry by josephus
Read 555 times
Written on 2018-12-25 at 00:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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