‘Twas the Day of Christmas, when all through the Hills

Not a coot was stirring, they had pooped all through the park hills;

The green/brown piles were left without care,

In hopes the town would not ban food fare;

Two elections this very fall struggled forth,

Visions of artificial turf dancing on campus north;

And Brenda in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

Tried our best to keep the Hills on the map.

When out on the Avenue there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my office to see what was the matter;

Away from Twitter I flew like a flash,

Sped down Saguaro and hoped for a bash.

The lens on my camera did reflect

An angry Fountain Hills Theater mob out on the street;

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But our second lady mayor so dear.

With a cell phone in one hand and a theater ax in the other,

I knew in a moment it must be Mrs. Kavanagh, aka St. Linda.

Our second female Santa with budget ideas did came,

And she pleaded, and cajoled, called the council by name:

“Now, Henry! Now, Cecil! Now Ginny and Tait!

On, Dennis! On, Cassie!

Now let’s all try to vote alike!

The theater gets enough town money!

They don’t need it all!

Now, vote away! Vote away! Vote away all!”

As town revenues out the window flew,

The public was asked to vote on street project new,

As the potholes and cracks on Saguaro just sat,

Knowing they’d get worse amid all that.

And then, out on Verde River and Palisades,

I heard such an implosion,

As I took a Chamber picture, and was turning around.

Down freshly sealed streets St. Linda was affably bound.

She was dressed in a business suit,

From her head to her foot.

And her clothes were bright,

Hoping for an inside scoop from a certain legislator’s might.

A bundle of interview requests she had flung on her back,

Ready to answer questions without any slack.

Her head – how it bowed!

Her dimples, how merry!

Her cheeks appeared to be plump, her nose all too wary!

Her droll little mouth was ever ready for a quote,

Never mind the New York accent on the note.

A copy of the theater schedule she held tight in her teeth,

And funding options circled her head like a wreath.

She had a fair face, and tea partiers to boot.

That glowed, when she met, with medical marijuana in dispute.

She was jovial, into cutting ribbons galore; a right jolly female elf;

And I quoted, when I met her, in spite of myself.

Welcoming photo ops, and a twist of her head,

Soon gave St. Linda a position far ahead.

She spoke plenty on Channel 11, went to many meetings.

Filled plenty letters with Republican greetings,

And giving a nod, banned animals as circus prizes.

She sprang to her car,

to her team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew, down a road called Thistle.

But I heard her exclaim, ere she rode out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all! and to all a good night!”

(With my annual huge apologies to Clement Clarke Moore…)