Great

We who loved him
knew he was great,
but this was not a common fact.
We heard that he once played
a mean game of tennis,
and he never forgot a face or name.
Through boyhood Depression years,
he walked the tracks
and picked up scattered coal
to help heat the house.
And he had twelve years
perfect attendance at Sunday School.
He was best at love,
the kind that makes you know
you are safe, and good.
He grew roses, and talked to them,
so that they would be lovely enough
to give away.
He was tender with babies,
and he laughed at his own jokes.
After a terrible stroke
and the death of his wife,
he hiked a long trail in the woods
and when he stood by the waterfall
at the bottom,
he shook his head with wonder
as if it all were such an amazing gift.
It was, of course.
So was he.

--Timothy Haut, March 6, 2016