In a Town This Size

In a town this size, you know dogs as well as you know their owners.
The person you need magically appears at the library.

All of your friends happen to go sledding at the same time.

The car letting you cross the street knows you from church.
Going to the market means walking and chatting along the way.
Your kids would have the same rules at any one else's dinner table.

It's a little bit farmers market, a little bit contra dance.
Ok, maybe too much contra dance.
It's a little bit new money, a little bit no money.
It's a lot of open space.

Fields and forests and hills and dales.
Everyone knows every house because the property is as part of the town as the people.
Deer, rabbit, horses, turkey, bear, an occasional moose.

It's 4th of July Fireworks that make you wonder,
Who on earth pays for all of that extraordinary bang?
It's a Road Race in spring.

In a town this size, there is a friendly back and forth with the curmudgeonly gentlemen in the paper.
A tree lighting ceremony at Christmas.
Where the old butcher whose last name is Blood, makes an impassioned speech for the schools.

It's a little bit creative new ideas.
It's a little bit earthy, grounded, aging hippy.
It's a little bit almost everything you'd ever want coffee shop, but nestled in a strip mall.

Bees, chickens, gardens, syrup, jam
Homestead, homespun, homemade
It's a little bit Martha, its a little bit Joni Mitchell.

In a town this size, if you lose your dog, someone is saying a prayer for his safe return.
It's Lavender Lemonade in summertime.
Quiet, but for the clock striking the hour and the birds that sing.

Photo courtesy of  The Groton Line