Rural Rhythms

Rural Rhythms.

Clatter in the henhouse, chatter of a chickadee,

Wrens in the wrenhouse, snappy and persnickety.

Rural Rhythms.

Brook goes flickerin’, flutterin’ by,

Whistle of a hawk up high in the sky.

This is where.

This is where they make the air.

Y’can’t compare:

Sure, I like the city if they’d just leave it there.

That’s fair.

Rural Rhythms.

Church bell ringin’ from far, far away.

Tea kettle singin’, “It’s a sunny day.”

Rural Rhythms.

There’s a rhythm in the sun heatin’ up this latitude.

Mop me up; I’m a puddle of gratitude.

Oh, say can you see

Miles and miles of harmony.

It’s heavenly.

More of these fine rural rhythms for me.

Rural Rhythms.

Drummin’ on the roof in a thunderstorm,

Cracklin’ fireplace keepin’ us warm.

Rural Rhythms.

Crunchin’ boots on snowy ground.

Y’stand real still and y’don’t hear a sound.

My, oh, my.

Powdered starlight fills the sky.

Why, oh, why?

Why’s it feel so good to be here?

Safe and protected, yet free here.

I am a part of these rhythms, that’s why.