Winding Roads of Chilmark

Tunnels through ancient Overbearing oaks, Lined by the still standing Stone fences built With sweat and tears By long ago settlers Who dragged rocks and Stones and boulders from The hardscrabble ice age soil To create their farms. Once Indian trails and Rutted cart tracks, Replaced now by the narrow Winding roads of Chilmark Curling through the hills, Up a rise and down, Around the sudden bend, A startled deer takes flight. Thickets of wild blueberries, And tangled grape vines, Give way to pastures Filled with sheep and Tiny distant views of blue Atlantic Ocean. Then back to woods again, Dotted here and there With homesteads hidden Up long dirt lanes, Only lighted windows Giving away their presence.