FOLKWAYS

Our tribe walks in shoes: our floors are cold, our roads are full of stones.
In winter we cut down trees  and plant them in warm bright rooms.
In spring we gather to talk about gravel and common ground.
Summer we play music, wave banners, make fountains of scintillating fire

In winter we cut down trees  and plant them in warm bright rooms.
In autumn our children throw eggs, beg like demons in the streets.
In summer we play music, wave banners, make fountains of scintillating fire
We eat corn, potatoes, fresh tomatoes, meats cooked on coals.

In autumn our children throw eggs, beg like demons in the streets.
Our young ones have customs of their own devising which we do not understand.
We eat corn, potatoes, fresh tomatoes, meats cooked on coals.
We light candles to count the years of our lives.

Our young ones have customs of their own devising which we do not understand.
We carry our babies in little chairs;  gather our children to teach them our lore.
We light candles to count the years of our lives.
We wait until the weather changes which we know it will because it always has.

We carry our babies in little chairs;  gather our children to teach them our lore.
We marry for love. We bury our dead in green fields under stones.
We wait until the weather changes which we know it will because it always has.
We do not tell strangers how we feel because there is nothing they can do.

We marry for love. We bury our dead in green fields under stones.
In spring we gather to talk about gravel and our common ground.
We do not tell strangers how we feel because there is nothing they can do.
Our floors are cold, our roads are full of stones, and so we walk in shoes.

 

I wrote this about my fellow introverted New Englanders.  It’s in the pantoum form, which is really fun to play with.

 

2 comments on “FOLKWAYS

  1. Molly says:

    I love this one…

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