-By Orv Alveshere-
LITERALLY A COLD SHOOTING BASKETBALL NIGHT
The grade school basketball team got in two cars and cruised down the road.
That energetic group created a frisky and noisy load.
Those exuberant young players ( and adults) thought they’d seen-it-all;
But, a myst’ry awaited them…on the court…of the next town hall.
That rural gravel road was dusted with snow. The guys settled down.
They peered to catch sight of that miniature country BURG, or town,
Their uniforms were worn under their clothes. But, it was basketball
They envisioned, as they traveled, to that small community hall.
CRACKERBOX HALL? SHOEBOX HALL? 1-HORSE TOWN?
HOLE-IN-THE-WALL TOWN HALL’S CHIMNEY HOLE-IN-THE-WALL
The coach’s tired ’40’s car groaned. The little town could disappear.
With snow-covered fields, ditches and road, he’d shift to a lower gear.
The dim headlights, powered by the 6-volt battery, plus nightfall
Caused concern, that they might “blink’ and drive past, and miss that tiny hall.
They joked of ‘frozen tundra’ (near Canada). “Take a dogsled from here?”
“City limit signs, are on each side of railroad tracks,” The coach sneered.
They quizzed the volunteer coach, “Is the town hall and town really small?”
The coach laughed and explained, “The free-throw circles MEET, at that town hall.”
TWO TALL UPRIGHT SNOWBIRD HOUSES AT WIDE SPOT IN ROAD
NO PROMPTER BEHIND STAGE CURTAIN/WHY’D THE TEMP DROP?
There must have been ten times the population, at that rural BURG.
The North wind wafted a chill, like sitting on top of an iceberg.
They checked for ‘his’ and ‘hers’ outhouses if they’d need to heed nature’s call.
They found two upright, narrow buildings, standing tall, behind the hall.
They viewed the ‘mini’ stage, where, on occasions, youthful actors strode;
Wearing holiday character costumes, their Moms had lovingly sewed.
There were bed sheets hung, as curtains, for the primitive curtain call.
In the corner stood a coal stove, to warm, that community hall.
WHISPERING WINDS BLEW FULL-TILT/POSTAGE STAMP SIZE STAGE
NOT A “HOT” TIME IN THE OLD TOWN’ TONIGHT
There was no school ‘play’ that night, and no prompter behind that curtain.
A teacher must assist, when young minds go blank, on stage, that’s for certain.
The ‘temps’ were DROPPING in that one-horse-town. It was a judgment call;
Whether it was warm enough to play the game of hoops in the hall?
They brushed snow off their gym shoes and stacked their clothes in the corner there.
PARDON THE PUN, they ‘WARMED UP’, despite the frosty and chilly air.
The home team had no subs. There was a round, chimney hole-in-the-wall;
At the hole-in-the-wall town, that had a hole-in-the-wall…town hall.
WHERE THERE’S SMOKE THERE (WA)’S A STOVE
MID-CENTURY LIONS WEREN’T LYIN’ ABOUT PACKING HEAT
The visiting substitutes had their warm-up jackets zipped up tight.
It was definitely NOT a “hot time in the old town” that night!
Two husky guys entered, with two long 2X4’s. What would they haul?
They WOULDN’T plan to MOVE that stove, out of that ‘crackerbox’ town hall?
The guests came from a 500-person town. Their team stood in awe;
Seeing five players on that cramped court…the court that needed a thaw!
The whistle blew. Two men LIFTED THAT STOVE and proceeded to haul
The only source of heat to the street outside of that ‘shoebox’ hall!
LOW CEILINGS & KNEES=OUT OF BOUNDS?/
U-CALL, WE HAUL HOT POTATO OR HOT STOVE?/WHAT A HALL, WHAT A HAUL
The game wore on with the ‘big-town’ visitors leading the local five.
They shivered and wondered if they needed more clothes to survive?
They noticed the overshoes, caps and winter coats. Some gals wore shawls
To protect from the cold Midwest weather, in the tiniest of halls.
Protesting a “granny’ free-throw off the ceiling, winning seemed fun.
They marveled at what men with 2X4’s had done. PARDON THE PUN.
They hauled the hot stove in at half-time…hauled it out.
They’d seen-it-all! Two guys with 2 X 4’s,
“TOOK THE HEAT” in that prairie town’s…town hall!
Orv Alveshere, an award-winning writer of humorous cowboy poetry and stories, “grew up hanging on a horse.” He writes about his lifetime of adventures.
Orv’s Cowboy Poetry tells of the days of life on the ranch in Midwest America when horses were used for transportation, field work, Sunday-go-to-meetings, and more. Read cowboy poetry from our beloved Orv Alveshere who recalls the days and memories from his past growing up farming on the prairies of North Dakota. Revel in the glory days of the true cowboy. Take steps back into the history of rural farm life, when horses were the centerpiece of the ranch and instrumental in the survival of the families that built America.
More of Orv’s Cowboy Poetry may be found at: http://theveonline.com/category/orvs-cowboy-poetry/