Another for National Poetry Month...

Doorbell

(Madame Ferrell ne reçoit pas)

Welcome to Guyandotte,

I see you’ve found my door.

I bet you feel so holy,

a’preachin’ to the poor.

I know it is that time again

For your big’ol church revival,

So I’ll make it clear, as I do each year,

My story of survival.

I’ve never talked to your god,

And I doubt you’ve talked with mine,

But I know about the foxes

And how they spoil the vine.

I am sick and tired of folks

In ways you cannot know.

I render unto Caesar

and leaven all my dough.

This is my home, my property,

I don’t owe you a debt.

Quit wearing out my doormat

and working up a sweat.

Daylight’s burnin’, time’s a’wastin’,

We’ve both got things to do.

It’s okay, be on your way,

And please, Shalom to you.

                                           ©Kathy Ferrell 2010