Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Poetry: Old Home Days - Rupert, VT


Old Home Days - Rupert, VT

Night falls
again,
and the mountains turn black and cold
against the failing sun, black'
except for the sharp color
of carnaval lights,
their song shattering the silence
with unaccustomed hues,
a strange thing
for this small outlying village,
known more for quiet,
for stone ovens baking bread,
for the hard work
and rough hands of crasftmen and farmers,
for broken hearts and spirits
and the children they raise, and yet
for this night
there is music and light
and every person has a choice between
what they choose to remember,
what their song will be tomorrow,
when the fields are again empty.
What tales will they tell
and make real, tales of
night,
or light.

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The picture was taken a couple of weekends ago, at the actual Rupert Old Home Days celebration, in nearby Rupert, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

1 comment:

Derrick said...

An intriguing end to the poem, Tom. I must admit to feeling disconcerted when a modern funfair jangles the peace of a sleepy town!