To My Father

A man walks carefully on the Earth.
He walks tall.
He teaches love.

The man is the eldest of his tribe.
He sees, quietly.
He acts for good among the people.
His words are not 'I understand' but 'I accept'.
He emanates and elicits warmth, respect and admiration.
He does this without meaning to.

This man has children who will carry on his work.
For the others I cannot speak but for the younger son I can.
His father gave him the soul of a poet and the mind of a scholar,
a strong body,
a proud heritage,

and a deeply felt love of land.

There was a man in France who planted a forest.  He is famous.
The man who walks carefully is not
but the trees he planted are growing happily nonetheless.
And they are planting seeds.

A multitude of people swarms the Earth.
A few of them are great.  The man is in their league: 
his words remembered;
his searching gaze felt;
his giant heart a gentle open hearth.

To be a man is a gift from God.
To be the son of a great man is sublime.
For this I give my sincere, eternal thanks
to you, the father, from me, the son.

You are in my heart forever, filling me with pride
which sometimes overwhelms me.

You are a better man than you know.

These words are less than you deserve.

With love, your second son (the cheeky one)