'I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree'
A single leaf makes its own history.
Attached to the bough from which it
sprung it is a perfect entity.
As part of the whole a resting-place for birds,
and a refuge for life-forms that we cannot see.
It welcomes the seasons, and greets each day
with an open face.
Throughout it's life it made no enemy, yet,
men come with chainsaws to fell the parent tree.
There is a similarity about them.
Eric, and my father.
Quiet men, who went about their lives
doing well for others.
Gentle men, who didn't seek rewards,
the doing would suffice.
When I talk with Eric,
memories of my father come flooding back.