Father's World

My father was one to

stand at night

And look up at the sky

At springtime moons and

blue starlight

And clouds that drifted by.

He seemed  to drink the fragrant air

In natural, keen delight

One with the breeze that

stirred his hair,

He'd murmur, "Some nice night!"

My father was one to

love the heat

Of any summer day;

The clover field to

him was sweet;

He mowed it all away.

With shirt stuck to his

back and wet,

Upon the hay he'd climb

And pause to mop his

face and say,

"Ah, good old summertime."

My father was one who

liked to live,

Who savored simple things.

He reached out, not to

take, but give

And lent us strength for wings

To reach beyond our

home and know

That his heart with us

would always go

And that in the greens of

trees and songs of birds

We could see and hear his

gentle words.

~ Esther Kem Thomas