RHYME Poem: Country Boy, by M.L. Brus

I need that
bare feet, caked in mud, kicking up dust
mantra.
That carry on melody in my head.

Towering stalks of gold
instead of those old cloud kissers.
I’ve got a rolled-up pants, shirt untucked kinda
soul.

I need that
quiet night, candlelight, sitting back
feeling.
Those screen door creaks.

Tennessee whiskey
wheat in my teeth
farmer tanned
and feeling small.

My oiled hair, out and dusty.
Shined shoes, hanging on a telephone wire.
I’d give it all up for
my rusty wild country.