(for Father’s Day, 2011)
It was the why you rose to work, with sometimes fewer words:
Mouths to feed, with open beaks, just like the baby birds.
It was the why you sometimes had to toughly discipline,
Like sergeants in the army mold raw recruits into men.
It was the why of outer gruff, quite needed to be firm,
When even that grew out of love, the greatest gentle germ.
It was the why God made your shoulders wider than the rest,
To lean upon when worldly woes against my soul were pressed.
All that and more is in the word, your role within the ranks.
All that and more is what you are, to me, and I give thanks.
© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2011.