VERMONT POETRY: Remains by Wayne Kelley

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CELEBRATE THE SEASON:
Talking Turkey
by Mary Lou Healy

Eleventh-Month Secrets
by Haydn S. Pearson

Pico Mountain
Killington's Seventh Heaven

First Tracks at Stratton Mountain

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For Your Thanksgiving Feast

VERMONT VERSES
Remains
by Wayne Kelley

EVERYTHING WOOD HEAT:
What's Wrong with My Woodstove?
by Daryle Thomas

VERMONT BY HAND:
Painting With Wood
by Kirt Zimmer

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Hunting: The Last Opening Day
by Mike Williams

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Roadside Visions
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A Prickly Subject
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Remains

by Wayne Kelly

The wind now blows in shades of gray;
it's swept all other colors away,
all but the gray-blue stretch of sky
which dutifully declines to die,
for it alone acts as the glass
through which the altered light must pass,
refracting into subtler hues
descendants of all grays and blues.
The raucous laughter of the leaves
survived by every life that grieves
the loss of beauty, death of light;
and longing for some second sight
to sort it out, and make some sense,
fails to receive its recompense.
The fire of scarlet scorched to brown
has died with all the shades pulled down.
This the legacy of dying
leaving off the need for trying,
picking up the torch for burning
all our dead in one year's turning.
We of brilliance soon bereft,
know blue and gray is all that's left.
It's all but blasphemy to die
beneath a gray November sky.

-WAYNE KELLEY
East Dorset, Vt.
from Fools Like Me

Wayne Kelley of East Dorset, Vt. is a regular contributor of seasonal essays and poetry.