How Wrong Could I Have Been

In my youthful days, I thought those country ways, were for hillbillies and hicks. Watching fat cows graze, in early morning haze, was no way to get my kicks. Clear blue skies ablaze, under those golden rays, just did not give me a fix. Was those city ways, where I gave all my praise, I preferred concrete and bricks. Down streets like a maze, at skyscrapers I’d gaze, traffic jams snarled in the mix. Now when my mind strays, here in these old age days, I dream I’m back in those sticks.