The Great Unquoted
Folks from the country are rarely surveyed.
They’re too far from the action so rarely waylaid
by people with surveys or long questionnaires
who don’t know the difference between bulls and mares.
They’re afraid of rogue bulls (or perhaps they are steers?)
Then wood ticks and snakes are additional fears.
So they’re given to mutiny when asked to go
to where they consider the folks are so slow
that they’re dumb as the fence posts that border the road.
They aren’t up on the lingo. Their clothes aren’t in mode,
but farm folks are happy no matter what season.
If they’d taken a survey, they’d find the top reason
is that folks armed with clip boards don’t haunt every nook.
They don’t stand at the corner or invade your brook
when a fellow stands fishing and thinking great thoughts.
They don’t snoop in your garbage or peek in your pots.
Here in the country, while working or drinking,
we keep to ourselves all the thoughts we are thinking.
Let city folks keep all their lists, charts and numbers.
We county folk prefer our bucolic slumbers.
He might look like a city boy, but that’s my dad stretched out under a tree down by the river, thinking great thoughts. I think my mom had him dressed up for a church picnic.