Always a country lad was I,
and in the country I’ll hope to die,
for there’s nothing like solitude
found in a land, ruggedly rude,
which thrives about and around.
Where spiritual serenity found,
is removed from noise and bustle
of the endless metropolitan hustle,
that chases and constantly chivvies
office workers and menial skivvies,
who chase a hopeless dream.
All part of the urban scheme
that promises followers gold,
if they trample the lesser bold!
Me?  I let the world go by,
as I idly sit and gaze at the sky,
to watch fleecy clouds pass on.
I blink.  Suddenly they’re gone!
But never wonder to where they went:
what their destination and intent?
Know more will follow as before,
as I spend hours doing no more
than watching, enjoying the day.
Such is this country lad’s way!
Some say I’m wasting my life,
but hours spent free from strife
I’d say with all honest sincerity,
have made my life, in all verity,
a journey of extreme pleasure.
With special moments, I treasure,
captured in my hours of solitude,
allow no one or thing to intrude
that might spoil my sacred reverie.
This is the life well suited to me,
and not one I’ll swap readily
until I go to eternity - willingly!
Until that day, I’ll be content
to see my hours and days spent
in the serious consideration
as to what in all creation,
I’d do if I were city bred?
The very thought hurts my head:
how would I endure the noise?
And as thinking upsets my poise,
I’ll quietly stay sitting a bit,
and listen to what birds say
in their knowing country way!
Yes, I’m glad to be a country lad,
for rustic ways ain’t bad,
and I regard haste as a crime,
so I take each day in slow time.
There is much more I could say,
but feel I’ve said enough today!

Rhymer.  May 4th, 2018