MARBLE MOUNTAIN
Ghost fields covered in snow
Now seeds of memories they sow
The honest images of man's toil
Once caring hands did turn soil
My thoughts turn to long ago
As to what the vacant land might know
Transferred through four generations
The descendants now in other nations
With axe an crosscut
They carved its face
Into those hills
Into this place
One by one they moved away
To Boston and to Thunder Bay
In time the fields grew up in spruce
The houses vacant had no use
But a century later I can see
Ghost images of what could be
Now there are stumps underneath the snow
Where once potatoes used to grow
But from this distance across the Bras'dor lake
You can excuse my mind for this mistake
For dreaming of fields gone by
Where barefoot boys could lie