The Father

Solid as a pillar

the father stood planted:

for all the good things

in life God granted.

With his bare hands

bees were as children;

with his blue eyes

 kids knew their limits.

Always a teacher

advice friendly given

toward any projects

the boys were scheming.

A friend of the people

beyond the village,

they all came weeping

when the angel ascended.

The House

The house was snuggled

amid oaks and maples;

breezes blew calmly

through windows open.

The floor of wood

solid as the maples

wore through the years

but always swept cleanly.

The roof was of tin

ringing with falling rain,

reflecting the sun

with its drilling pain.

The windows were spotless

for hearts looking outward:

at blue birds and robins,

the moon and the stars.

The Sun

The sun shine brightly,

the sky deep and blue,

tho' mist on the leaves

sparkled through the trees.

Above banks high

the water tracked scars;

the boys looked disheartened

at the dam destroyed by the storm.

Their hearts soon shined

as bright as the sun;

the boys went running off

for new dreams to conquer.

The Storm

That same afternoon

tree frogs warned loudly;

creatures in the forest

all scattered for cover.

Big trees swayed slowly,

little ones bent low;

clouds up high rumbled,

cracking white lightning.

The little creeks roared

all murky and brown

above their boundaries

sweeping leaves on the ground.

From night till first light

the rain fell steady,

so that by sunrise

the ground was all soggy.

The Dam

Downstream a mile

the tiny creek united

head-on with another

just a little bigger.

Together these two

at a fork joined forces;

it was right here

the boys started working.

They gathered all the rocks

and dirt they could find;

and while they were digging

yellow jackets came buzzing.

To home they darted,

legs hardly moving;

to the dam they returned

with kerosene for the critters..

Their project continued,

near sundown completed;

by the next morning

the water stood deeply.

The Creek

Between two hills

meeting in slopes,

a tiny creek trickled

along the fields of the forest.

The hills were splattered

with hickories and oaks;

clusters of pines

grew up in bunches.

The creek was no bigger

than one step across;

always crystal clear

till hard rains fell.

The creek was too small

for fishes to eat;

but tadpoles abounded

with lizards and snakes.

The Cabin

Daddy's big axe

was all they needed

to muscle down trees,

cut limbs cleanly.

Notching each log

once on either end;

stacking them high

one upon another.

Planks slightly rotten

found in the forest,

tho' for a door

they'd do just nicely.

Inside they made a bed,

moved in an old table;

on top they placed a lamp,

casting shadows in the cabin.

All night in the dark

within their wooden hut,

each told fancy yarns

about tomorrow's forthcoming.