“A brownie or broonie (Scots), also known as a brùnaidh or gruagach (Scottish Gaelic), is a household spirit or hobgoblin from Scottish folklore that is said to come out at night while the owners of the house are asleep and perform various chores and farming tasks.” ~ Wikipedia
“We look at spirit not at form
Our touch is gentle, kind and warm
We but reflect God’s love and light
‘Tis the path to which we conform”
So, sing the lively Brownies
in the mists of Scottish Lorne,
and to the mists of other townies,
traveling in wee hours of the morn,
lightening good people’s burdens
with unselfish, friendly deeds
in their kitchens and their gardens,
thinking of their neighbor’s needs.
Though in life, we get so very tired,
by wee Brownies, can we be inspired?
He said she said we did and they were.
My brain has shut down.
Slammed shut with a banging sound.
Clang!
I am sure this is fascinating talk for the
townies who have lived in this small town
forever and also share stories of he, she, we,
they, said, did, and whatever….
For a person who escaped all of this
gossipy stuff, and has not been exposed to
much of it since 1970, it holds zip appeal.
My mind refuses to open up,
writing poetry behind the locked door,
not letting any of the he said, she said, they did
stuff in.
Reminding me why we made our escape.
I cannot lie. A townie’s legs are kind of atrophied.
Too much couch sitting for our tummies to get taunt.
Unfit, unhealthy, unresponsive, unable to hide,
we sit and wait for our food to arrive by aunt.
Our country cousins’ legs are muscular and trim.
They are in the field with corn, haying and picking.
We townie cousins almost always join a gym,
But do not go, our subconscious we are tricking.
Our country cousins get up at five and start working.
We prefer to sleep ‘til ten, some of us do twerking.
Our country cousins go to church, passé’ for us.
They are creepily polite, defer to God, and rarely cuss.
The big muscles in their arms we notice now and again.
We do not make a big deal of it or the muscles in their shin.
They are fit from head to toe, from all the chores they do.
Townies are inside lumps, and it makes us a little blue.
Country cousins are outside most of their day,
we townies use an I-pad or I-pod to do our play.
Country cousins, some of us are envious of you.
Try to get our kicks with buying, which will rarely ever do.
Written 9-8-2019
Contest: Town Children
Sponsor: Julia Ward
The 4th of July in my hometown is
Bigger than Christmas
Because all of the non-townies come home
It is bigger than Homecoming
There is a carnival, and a parade.
The high school band plays.
Concession stands all over the town square
Sell things we can only get in this little place once a year
Funnel cakes, cotton candy, firework snakes to light.
There are contests, and pony rides,
And screaming that begins at ten o’clock when the rides open
and lasts until the last ride is done at nine o’clock
The whole town show up at the park at 8:00
To get their blankets and lawn chairs in place
for the fireworks set off by the firemen.
No one goes home until the last one is done.
There is always a long pause between the next to the last one
and the last one.
I have no idea why, but we all live for that pause
Knowing the last one is going to be so terrific
It will last us another year.
He was the kindest man, with newfangled, unusual ways of doing things.
He had a good heart, but was avoided by the townies.
Died at thirty-eight, probably from a sense of shame
As his business died first because no one would venture in.
Sad for the few of us who got to know him, his employees.
Stormy Weather
I never noticed until today
That the wind blows south in east PA
The sun only shines between five and nine
And the rain comes in the summertime
Everyone here waits for the smell of roses
But hates the trouble the storm poses
Many trees fell down in town this May
Little children scurried to get out of the way
The shingles on houses flew through the air
And power outages were everywhere
The firemen and linemen got acquainted
But never noticed pretty houses are painted
The moon is full when the townies act crazy
And the air is thick when the sky is hazy
But I’ve got plans that will not be broken
And good ideas that are left unspoken
I sure hope the clouds aren’t coming my way
I’m betting on a bright and sunny day today
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