When I remember
Father I recall
Not just his wisdom and his art, but
small
Inconsequential things: The Stetson hat
He always wore; I can remember
that
He swept a yard as clean as women
sweep a floor
Tlll it was smooth and hard. I guess he wore
Out far too many brooms for Mother's
taste.
But cleanliness is such a lovely
waste
Of raw materials, and Father
lived
To make things beautiful. His spirit thrived
On color splashed across a sunset
sky,
On little Smokey hills, or mountains
high
Against the stars. He loved his shady oaks,
The silver bark of sycamores, and
folksÐ