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A Town with Soul
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Heritage and Legacy Most of the people where I live
feel holier-than-thou;
the others are senile,
and worry about poison in the apples.
An out-of-the-ordinary bible belt
encompasses this place
where do-gooders are voted
citizen-of-the month.
A group of self-proclaimed preachers
gather each evening beneath
the cluster of live-oak trees on
West Baker Street,
revolting againt evil-doers,
discovering a common focus for
their scattered attention.
Their glances are warning torches.
At seven o'clock, the carillon at the
Methodist Church tolls
the end of another day,
and townfolks "turn in."
So long ago, it seems,
I made varicolored promises to
leave this whistle-stop village,
a place I now lovingly call
"my hometown," where marks
of a life well spent
are forever engraved
on my heart.
