Connie Yost (5/27/38 / Reed City, Michigan)
Spunky Country Folks
They've rolled up the rug from the living room floor,
There's grape juice punch on the table,
Elderberry pies, butter cookies and more,
Lump candy from the springtime maple.
Over in the corner in her mamma's arms,
Baby girl hears the nice fiddle.
Neighborhood musicians have come from their farms,
Her daddy is there in the middle.
Fill up the floor and do an allamanda left,
All the way around the circle.
Mandolin hopeful tremoloing his best,
Distracted by that girl in purple.
Little ones are sleepin' on a pile of coats,
The band plays a cowboy ballad?
Livin' close to nature, spunky country folks,
And humbly unaware of their talents.
Comments about this poem (Spunky Country Folks by Connie Yost )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley