Buffalo Tales
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About this ebook
Judy Frazer Brouillette
Judy Frazer Brouillette was born in Lafayette, Alabama, three miles from Buffalo, in 1935. She spent many happy days at her grandfather’s farm at Buffalo, where she heard many of the true stories that she turned into poems. They are as amusing now as they were in the old days of her childhood.
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Buffalo Tales - Judy Frazer Brouillette
Copyright © 2023 by Judy Frazer Brouillette.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
Rev. date: 05/02/2023
Xlibris
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www.Xlibris.com
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CONTENTS
Renaissance
After the Rain
Horoscope
Mother’s Motto
Justice
Birthday
The Beatys
Tranquility
Angst
Ralph and the Mule
The Mallard King
Memory of Booney
The Logging Truck
The Omen
March
Gerontocracy
Parsimony
The Hired Man
Kobe
Wanderlust
Mother’s Driving Lesson
Cycles
Night Flight to Dallas
Upholsterer’s Shop
Nostrum
Terminus
Integrity
The Healer
Assignation
Eley’s Turkey
Grooming the Mule
Celie
Chimera
Bereavement
Famine
Ode to a Birthday Lady
Widows of War
Poem
Asylum
Therapy
Satisfaction
The Messy Desk
The Prattler
The Avengers
Metamorphosis
Living High on the Hog
Education
Constancy
November Dawn
The Quarrel
Summer Drought
Critique
Eulogy
Farewell
The Bobsled
Rappelling Down the Transom
The Firstborn
The Miser
Stuck in the Past
Eley’s Ducks
The Dancing Lesson
Monkeyshines
Illusions
The Uniform
The Career Pool
The Yard Man
The Underdog
Cloudwalk Dawn
The Trend-Setter
Cairo Midnight
Yard Sale After the Funeral
Déjà vu
Legacy
Author’s reason for creating the mule icon:
The poems that are designated with a mule icon are true stories, some of which date back to the early 1900s, in the time of my parents’ childhood.
RENAISSANCE
The breath of evening blows its perfumed sighs,
And blossoms float upon the leaves like snow;
The damp, chill grave of winter opens wide,
And spills spring’s sweetness on the hills below.
The scattered seeds of fruit forever green
Still lie in darkness, waiting for the dawn;
When warmth of sunlight casts its golden glow
Old winter’s pall another year is gone.
AFTER THE RAIN
Winding roads still weave their silver threads
Through stubbled fields,
Stitching corn to wheat.
Brown-bearded grasses nod their sleepy heads,
Replete with ripened seed,
And sing the wind’s soft songs.
Tall poles like sentinels
Flex their mighty arms
And hoist the dangling wires through empty miles.
Small birds sit gossiping on those wires
And dart bright eyes
To scan the frost-heaved furrows,
Seeking scanty sustenance.
A host of icy puddles wink