You can have the forty-nine. Herring gulls that dot the sky, blue waves that paint the rocks, water rich with Neptune s life, the boats that line the docks. I see the lighthouse flickering to help the sailors see. There s a place for everyone, Rhode Island it s for me. I love the fresh October days, the buzz on College Hill, art that moves an eye to tear, a jewelers special skill.
Icicles refract from the sun, snow falling gracefully.
The skyline piercing Providence, the State House dome so rare. Residents who speak their minds, no longer unaware. Roger Williams would be proud to see his colony, so don t sell short this precious port.