We don’t have any palm trees round here
Or any cacti
Don’t do too much sunbathing neither (damn clouds)
But we do have a few prickly folks
We got a lot a guns
But we don’t tend to shoot our neighbors
Or little kids
Most people like that
We do, however, bag a buck once in a blue moon
If we don’t drink too much
People from down below
Some of em living up here now
Thinks we talk funny
Coz we put an “a” wherez an “r” supposed to be
And an “r” wherez an “a” supposed to be
Maybe it’s them from down below that talks funny
Seems about right, ayuh!
Theyz call us woodchucks, bumpkins, hayseed, hicks, backwater and stuff
Even had one of them folks
Ask me if I was one of them cowhampshire types
But theyz surprised when we talk about how much we love
Multivariant calc. or the back story of Shay’s Rebellion
Then they ask whoz Shay? What?
Or this one always gets em, how the Bard hit a grand slam with the “Tempest”
It’s funny coz most of em ain’t read the Bard
What kinda a schooling did ya go to any wayz?
What’s weird is many of them down below types
Wanna be woodchucks like us now
They dress in flannel, work a chainsaw, contra dance, and plant some veggies
But us woodchucks gotta draw the line somewherez
And say with no intent of malice (we use big words up here)
“Sorry”, if ya wanna be a real woodchuck
Yur mom and yur dad gotta have ya here
It’s kinda a New Hampsha thing! Ayuh!
Prisms of light fell through the night
Decorated each tree with its jewels.
Every branch, every twig, none too small or too big,
All were dressed like a king on his stool.
The sun came to admire, he hoped to inspire
Some smiles from the people below.
He glowed with the joy of watching a boy
Who now looked from his sled to the snow.
The boy picked up his sled, he’d left bracing the shed
And threw himself flat on its top.
He lowered his head, down the steep hill he sped
He’s an astronaut, a pilot, a cop!
The joy of a boy with a sled on a hill
Recall our own slides long ago.
Freezing ears, hands and faces, trudging back to the places
We started from – thanks to the snow.
ELIZABETH D. BEMIS ZINN