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Some people seem to need to feel superior to others and will categorize them with a name. I have been called a hick because I live in the country, have horses, and so on. After thinking about it, I wear the name with pride regardless how the other person meant it. Hicks, like almost all groups, people choose to segregate, are some amazing people.
If you hunt for me, you will find I am listed among the Hicks
The poor common folk that choose to live back in the sticks.
The kind of folk who have a job but also have to do chores
that build bonfires and teach the kids how to make Smores.
Among those that if you do need any help are glad to give
and by the Golden Rule most still their lives do try to live.
We are dirt poor by the standards most will use to judge
but from this great way of life one of us will rarely budge.
You might think us ignorant, having taken no college courses,
but we have the knowledge of things like survival and horses.
We may not have all that city people have, who are on the run,
but we appreciate what we have and know how to have fun.
We feel at home when we out among the lakes and trees
with the nature that provides and we care for, we are at ease.
It is a harder life, I will admit that this much is so very true
and may not be the choice that is best for some like you
But I will stay in the sticks until my life is finally through
city life is not a thing that for long I would ever want to do.
When I look up let me only see the vast sky and tall trees
and let me feel the grass below and the cool summer breeze.
Watch the strutting of turkeys and meandering of the deer
and all the things that nature gives for us to hold so dear.
When time says my final breath has been drawn and spent
I will know that like nature, this country life was heaven sent.
