Vermont

By C. A. Morrow

Twisting roads through green speckled hills
Red barns that dot a summer long gone
Skiers seeking perennial winter thrills
In woodlands deep and silently strong

From here to Newhart and Frost they go
To a spirit of Yankee grace and solitude
Where people in tone pleasantly speak
And show God their eternal gratitude

It is a long road that I've often taken
When my mind must gain peace from want
And leave my troubles behind forsaken
As I cross that brook into green Vermont.