There’s a village for sale in Scotland.
Only $173,000 and that includes mossy ruins
and a beach on the loch.
In Scotland, thunderclouds won’t stall overhead
dumping inches of rain at a time, flooding the yard.
In Scotland, the yard waste is always picked up on time
and the neighbors don’t build smoky fires with wet wood.
In Scotland, Democracy is not failing,
racism is not systemic, and police are always helpful.
Though there’s a village for sale in Scotland
I’m not buying it.
©Mary Lee Hahn, 2021
Laura Shovan takes us to the Black Lagoon for this week's Poetry Friday Roundup.
Well, how did I miss THIS? We have just bought a second home/retreat/family meet-up spot a few hours away, near the mountains... maybe I should have held out. ;0) What a story! And I do love your poem, and your take on it... Ha! Thanks for the wry intrigue, Mary Lee. Sláinte!
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