Ketchum

by Ken Ferguson

Pine trees dot hills that slant to the sky

Snow-tipped peaks majestic in the distance

Cotton-candy clouds lilt in the deep blue sky above

A gentle stream meanders its way across a

snowy field to peaceful woods ahead.

The Right Kind of People

By Edwin Markham

Gone the city, gone the day,
Yet still the story and the meaning stay:
Once where a prophet in the palm shade based,
A traveler chanced at noon to rest his mules.
“What sort of people may they be,” he asked,
“In this proud city on the plains o’erspread?”
“Well, friend, what sort of people whence you came?”
“What sort?” the packman scowled; “why, knaves and fools!”
“You’ll find the people here the same,” the wise man said.
Another stranger in the dusk drew near,
And pausing, cried, “What sort of people here
in your bright city where yon towers arise?”
“Well, friend, what sort of people whence you came?”
“What sort?” the pilgrim smiled, “Good, true, and wise.”
“You’ll find the people here the same,” the wise man said.

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