Ladies and Gentledudes: After this poem there are only SIX left in the month. Get your requests in now, folks.
Today's poem was about the little city I love so much: Hot Springs.
She sits amidst mountains in this
vaporous valley, springing hot.
She shows a little leg and
coaxes the lonely stranger to stay.
She swims in drink, she sleeps
with gamblers, she runs with horses.
She tri-lake, my spa city, she
West Mountain, she Bathhouse
Row, she Higdon Ferry,
she Gallery Walk.
My city will sing to you siren hymns
so you don't never want to leave her.
My city will stand on her front porch,
saying hush, dogs, hush,
watching you leave, making bets
with herself on how long til you come back.