A New Poem by Hilde Oleson
It’s a long road that winds thru scrub pines
And past dunes that loom like mountains against the horizon.
Especially when you know that at the very end,
The tip, the beginning of no-where is Home.
A tiny town with no place to park your car,
No garages to rent , in winter no jobs to be had.
But Oh! The promises. Every winding street a mystery.
Every stop on the road a portrait of beauty.
Glances of welcoming water glistening in sun,
Skies full of amazing cloud patterns.
In summer crowds fill every corner, laughter spills over
As music reaches out from each street.
There are street musicians, there are classical teachers,
There is a chorus that started with few and grew over
100 to entertain all the rest. There are lonely musicians
That rest under a tree, strumming quietly to themselves.
And there are people. People everywhere.
A small town of two thousand bursts forth to be triple that
On week-ends. And on holidays exponential growth.
In many places small towns have sprung up.
There are other places of beauty.
But because of it’s history Ptown is different.
It is as if the town knows it was first.
It remembers the pilgrim days,when it was lonesome.
It remembers the strength it took to endure,
Built into its fiber is courage. It does not care if it’s language
Is different. It has listened to many strange tongues.
This town has watched gains and losses, is impervious to change.
Knows within it’s core that it will endure.
Because this is a town built on love.
They say a town built on sand and on love is endangered.
There may come a day when we will all wash away—-
But not in your life-time or mine.
This town has the firmest foundation. A strong will to live,
Love and stay.