C.O.U.N.T.R.Y. Poem by Loretta Shively


Cool dewy grass 'neath bare feet in the morn'.
Over our heads shines the sun bright and warm.
Under a shade tree: we welcome the break.
Nothing can beat a quick dip in the lake.
Think of the breezes that play through your hair.
Running through clover fields, free from all care.
You'll feel the freedom of spirit when you
ride horse back through fields and down country lanes, too.

Croaking of frogs in the marshes and creeks.
Owl's mournful call as his supper he seeks.
Union of night sounds will rock me to sleep:
Number of bird songs, no mortal can keep.
Trickling of water and humming of bees,
Rustling of wind through our big maple trees.
You will remember the voice of the earth
whenever you think of the country life's worth.

Cold, hand cranked ice cream to end summer days.
Onion rings fried over open fire blaze.
Up in the attic hangs popcorn to shell.
Nice, clear, cool water from Grandpa's old well.
Trust mom's fresh bread to fulfill your desire:
Roast several marshmallows over the fire.
You cannot know what real food is until
you have come to the country and tasted your fill!

Cows, dogs, and horses all smell sweet to me -
Only a farmer will truly agree!
Unless you've smelled honeysuckle grown wild
Never assume you're a country-life child.
That heavenly smell of the freshly mown hay;
Rain-soaken earth smells so good to this day.
You'll never find anything to compare
to deep endless breaths of the clean country air.

Clear, azure sky spanning miles all around,
Out in the fields where the flowers abound.
Under the stars 'stead of bright city lights;
New golden days after calm, peaceful nights.
Tall shady trees by the small winding creek.
Rich farming dirt in the country, I seek.
You'll never know till you see what I mean,
so come to the country; the country I've seen!

Common folks, yes, but we know how to work.
Ours is a duty that we dare not shirk!
Using our heads, while our hands work the soil;
Nations are fed by a farmers hard toil.
Time in the evening to gather around,
Reminisce. Sing. It's where memories are found.
You make the choice, for the country is free!
So come FEEL the country. HEAR, TASTE, SMELL and SEE!

Loretta Shively

Tuesday, August 16, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: farmers,country,countryside,farm,beauty,flowers,animals,work,farming,senses,taste,feel,smelling,sound,on seeing the silence,poem,poems
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