Vermont Dreams Poem by dave lessard

I remember trees that shaped my mind
on most any street that I could find
on fields of granite monuments
of folks that once lived, now, past-tense.
Trees that bordered rivers wide and deep
with many currents, both slow and fleet
carving, slicing through the pastured land
all part of God's great awesome plan.
The Macintosh grew sweet and sometimes tart
juicy and delicious... in mouth apart
an apple to get me through the day
it was the youth of Vermont's way.
Maple syrup on flapjacks, such a treat
I swear that I could feel it in my feet
I'd run down country roads a mile or two
or often more, to see what I could do.
You can take the boy out of the country by ploy
but you can't take the country out of the boy
I'm for one, living proof of what I said
the country's laid to rest when I am dead.